


Damnation

by SunnseanicArts



Series: Arrows and Bullets [3]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Brother Feels, Character Death, Dependency, Depression, Immunity, M/M, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Possessive Behavior, Slightly Abusive Relationship, Zombies, big bro complex, indicated cannibalism, mentions of insanity & jealousy, slightly shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 70
Words: 293,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnseanicArts/pseuds/SunnseanicArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Salvation" - It's been months since Rick's group has fled the Greene farm when they come across a new safe haven - the prison. An aparent immunity, a new group of shady inmates and the return of a long lost brother soon causes conflicts, chaos and destruction. Walking Dead S3 with Connor in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **a couple of notes**  
>  \- I am German. English+accents+ grammar= not perfect  
> \- this is a sequel. Meaning you can still read it, but it's based on stuff that's already happened in the original story Salvation.  
> Daryl and Connor's friendship is already there, and some stuff has happened in Salvy that plays a role in this story  
> \- yes, I know. Connor died in Salvation, but I just wanted to write another story. Since I didn't want to get rid of that ending I decided to leave it in. I ignore this ending in this story here though and make up an alternate ending (see the first couple of paragraphs)  
> \- takes place during season 3 of Walking Dead so spoilers if you haven't seen the episodes yet.  
> \- I am aware that I stick too much to the canon storyline sometimes. Sorry about that. I just wanted the whole "Connor in a season of Walking Dead" feel, that when you go back to watch the episodes you're like "where the fuck is Connor?"  
>  **setting:** post Walking Dead season 2, S03 episode 1 " _Seed_ "

  
  
cover by julie9r

  
  


**_A couple of months ago..._  
**

The good part was that he could still hear and see them. He saw that Daryl was sitting right next to him, saw how Rick came over to join them. The fact that he was no longer throwing up his guts and practically drinking his own blood was also an improvement, but that was about it. The bad part was that he couldn't move at all. It was like he was paralyzed, like the infection had snapped something in his body, broke him somehow.  
  
 _Was this how it felt like to be dead? Brain dead? Was he dead?_ Connor tried to frown, but of course, that wouldn't work. _If he really were dead, then how could he still hear and see and feel everything? Was this how walkers felt like? Like they were trapped in their own heads? Like someone had just cut the link between body and mind?_

"Connor?" he heard Daryl say and tried to turn his head to look at his friend.

Nothing would happen. He was still staring straight up, unable to move or respond.

_I'm right fucking here._

He could see Daryl's angry frown and it made him furious as well. _Why couldn't he move?_  
  
He tried and fought but nothing would happen. It felt like his arms and legs were embedded in concrete.  
  
Rick placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder and looked at Connor as well. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry" he heard him say.

 _What for? I'm right here!_ he tried to shout, but his mouth wouldn't move.

He could feel how his eyes were getting dry because he couldn't blink at all. And the fact that he was _still_ in so much pain...he could feel the infection raging, it felt like his stomach was imploding now that he could no longer throw anything up. His left arm was burning like it was on fire. _Why wouldn't they do something?_ He saw Daryl staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

_Do something, Daryl._

He tried to beg him with just his eyes now that he was unable to speak, but he was pretty sure that his face was showing no reaction at all. Daryl suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders and started shaking him. For just a second he was almost drifting away again, he could feel his conciousness fade because of the constant movement, and his neck started aching because all the shaking was straining his muscles. _  
As if it wasn't painful enough already._

"Wake up yah prick" Daryl demanded and Connor got even more furious.

_I'm trying, asshole._

"Wake the fuck up, Connor!" he heard his friend yell.

Daryl was shaking him once more. It was driving the Irishman crazy. Never in his life had he been in a situation like that, and he wished it to no one. He had thought that getting bit and slowly dying and feeling that much pain had been the worst experience in his life, but this was far, far worse. It felt like he was just watching a movie. Like he was sitting in a theatre. He could see all the characters playing their roles. Daryl, slowly losing his shit. Rick, just standing there and staring at him. Lori and Carl, crying and weeping in the corner.  
  
But he was just a member of the audience. Just like no one had ever been able to help their favourite movie characters in a movie he was also unable to help any of them now. Do anything. Communication, interaction, he was cut off. Practically separated from his body. Funny that. He had always seen himself as the brain of their work as the saints. Murphy had been the physical one, he had been the thinker, and now he literally was the brain, the thinker. Because this was all he had left.

"I said wake up!" Daryl yelled and Rick finally tried to get him away.

 _Thank you_ he thought, because all the shaking was getting ridiculous and traumatizing.  
  
Even worse, he was watching his best friend fall apart and could do absolutely _nothing_ about it.

"It's too late Daryl" Rick said and Daryl stared at his chest.

He could feel his hand, the hunter had never let go of him after his last fit. For a moment Daryl was just staring at something, and after some thinking Connor remembered. _Aequitas_. He had written it on his hand. He wanted to snort. Aequitas. Justice. _Was this justice?_ For the past couple of months he had wished that someone would come and kill him. Bite him. He had tried to hang himself. And when he had finally found a friend and a new sense in living karma had got him. He had been bit. And now he had gotten his justice, now he was paying for Murphy's death. A price that was far crueller than death: apparent death.

Connor could still feel the infection rage through his body, pulsating through his arm and poising everything inside him. And the pain was still getting worse. Daryl was staring at something on his chest, then he looked at him again. He looked so furious and heartbroken. The hunter leaned forward and put a hand on Connor's eyes. The Irishman could feel how his lids were being shut. He wanted to let out a relieved sigh and scream at Daryl at the same time.  
  
Now it was dark. He welcomed the feeling of his eyes getting some sort of moist again, but not being able to see was way worse. Connor had imagined it to be so different. Dying. Not so slow. Not step by step. He had always imagined that it would happen in a blink. First the control over his body had been taken away from him, now he could no longer see. _What was coming up next? Breathing?_

He felt a lump in his throat when he realized that maybe this had been the last time he had seen Daryl, Rick, the group. The sky, the trees, the world. He cursed everyone for not saying anything now that he was dependent on hearing. He didn't know what was going on until he could feel how a cold smooth object was being pressed against his forehead.  
  
 _The gun._  
  
For a second his mind was racing. He didn't know what to feel, what to do, what to think. _Did he want it? Was this the part where he would just leave his body and be with his brother again? Was Murphy waiting for him? Did he even want to leave?_ He wasn't ready for any of it. Dying, living. Maybe it was best to just let it end now. He had demanded it after all. And he deserved some peace after all. _But what if he wanted to live and Daryl decided not to shoot him? What if he was gonna be in that state forever? What if they just left his body right there and other walkers came and started eating him alive?_  
  
 _Shoot me. Pull the trigger._

It was taking Daryl longer than it should. Connor didn't even need to see it, he just knew that his friend couldn't do it. He would have pulled the trigger minutes ago otherwise. Part of him thanked god. He still didn't know if he really wanted him to. Connor tried to move his arms and legs again. Nothing happened. He felt the urge to cough but couldn't. It was an absolute nightmare.

_Just do something. Please._

"You want me to do it?" he heard Rick say and tensed.

For a while he couldn't hear anything at all, and that was the worst part.  
  
Their leader could be pointing a gun at his head right now and he wouldn't even know.  
  
If Connor's eyes hadn't been shut now, he sure as hell would have squeezed them shut by now. He was expecting to get shot in the head any second.

"Just..please leave us alone for a bit" Daryl said quietly.

It just made it worse. Because he sounded so broken, so defeated. Never had he ever been like that before.  
  
Connor had never heard or seen it at least. He hated himself for causing his friend so much pain while he was just lying there.

"Yah going t'wake up now?" Daryl asked after a while and waited for an answer.

 _I'm right fucking here, man. I'm right fucking here,_ he thought.

If he had been able to then he would have been bawling by now. The whole situation was so goddamn frustrating and nothing but torture.

"Where the _fuck_ were yah all the time" the hunter went on and Connor listened up.

"With all yer saint shit. All them years I felt like shit because of my family. All them years I never had anyone. No buddies, no one but Merle.  
Where the fuck were yah."

Connor could feel another lump in his throat. So Daryl really thought he was dead. And the poor bastard was pouring his heart out right now. He knew that his friend had never ever dared to really talk about his feelings and thoughts, simply because he was always trying not to let anyone near himself. This was why he had told Rick to leave them after all. The fact that Daryl had never told him any of this before made it even worse.

"Why didn't we meet earlier, yah stupid prick. Why the hell didn't I get more time t'get to know yah."

_I'm so fucking sorry._

And Connor knew that he didn't want to die. Didn't want him to pull the trigger.  
  
 _Yer job's nat done yet, Con. You've still got a purpose. Some shit you've gotta do._  
He knew what his job was now. He knew why life was still worth living. Because that guy next to him _needed_ him.

"Yah were the brother I've always wanted t'have, now smarten up and wake up now!" Daryl yelled and started shaking him again.

He was so angry and so heartbroken that it made Connor even more furious.

_Wake up now._

The Irishman tried moving his limbs again. It was like he was trying to lift up a bus. Daryl suddenly grabbed his hand and squeezed it.  
  
Connor tried his hardest to squeeze back. It took a lot of effort but then he managed to move his right thumb, but it was already too late.  
  
Daryl had already let go of his hand with a frustrated sigh.

_I did it! Did you see it? Daryl!_

He startled when he could feel the gun on his forehead once more.

_No. Come on. No. Please don't._

"I'm sorry I don't know yer prayer" Daryl said and Connor tried shaking his head.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save yah" Daryl went on.

 _You saved me, don't you fucking see?_ He was screaming in his mind.

"I hope you've got yer justice now " Daryl whispered and Connor tried shaking his head in panic once more.  
  
 _This is so so wrong._

"I hope you're with yer Murphy now."

_No!_

He gathered all his strength and tried shaking his head once more. He gasped when it worked. Connor was shaking his head like a madman.  
He thought so at least. He knew that his head was only moving ever so slighty, and he prayed to god that Daryl was looking at him.

_I'm begging you, no._

A second later he was able to raise his hand. He prayed to god that Daryl didn't mistake him for a walker. Or maybe he was a walker now. He didn't even know anymore. Maybe this was what a resurrection felt like. Maybe all the walkers were just undead people, with their minds fighting with their bodies, trying to take anyone out who was trying to shot them in the head. Just so they could stay alive, fight for their life.

"No" he whispered and coughed gently.

He felt how Daryl shifted.

"What?" the hunter asked and moved

"Don't.." Connor croaked and coughed once more.

"Didyah...Connor?"

The Irishman tried to nod, but he had put so much effort into shaking his head that he simply didn't have any strength left.

"Jesus, he's alive! He's alive!"

Connor opened his eyes with a loud and gurgling gasp. Something was blinding him, and he felt terribly, terribly sick.  
  
Connor tried to focus, make out where he was. Soon more and more silhouettes swam into view.  
  
He could hear people muttering and talking, but it sounded like he was underwater.

"How is this possible?" he heard someone ask and groaned when he felt a hand on his forehead.

It was freezing. He coughed and tried to turn away, but someone was holding him in place.

"We've seen him die, you said his heart stopped beating" someone else said.

A second later he could feel how someone placed a hand on his chest. He groaned in pain because the touch hurt.  
His whole body was burning with pain because of the fever, and his arm hurt so much that he just wanted someone to cut it off.

"He's burning up" he heard Daryl say and felt a hand on his forehead once more.

Connor gasped because his hand was so cold, too cold. Then he could feel the icy hand on his cheeks.

"Don't hold out any hopes. He could be dangerous. He's been bitten. You know what that means. Sooner or later he will die" he heard Rick say and groaned once more.

Someone was blinding his eyes with a flashlight. He could see white spots for a couple of minutes and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. Connor tried to shake his head again. _He wasn't dead, why wouldn't anyone get that? Why wouldn't anybody help him? When was this nightmare going to end?_ He felt so vulnerable, and this made him furious. Even back then when he had been tortured in Yakavetta's cellar he had never felt so helpless.

"Just look at him. He's suffering. Maybe we should put him out of his misery. I'm sure that's what he wants.  
He gave you his gun, Daryl. No one should suffer through this for so long" Rick went on and Connor shook his head in panic.

"No.." he gasped and started coughing again. He turned on his side and grabbed closest person. It was Daryl who responded to his touch.

"I ain't shooting him."

"He's in pain. And a major threat. What if he turns when we're not aware of it? No one has ever survived a bite, he's a danger to the group!"

"I don't care! You've killed enough people with yer decisions! If yah want t'shoot 'im you have t'get past me first! Any of you!" Daryl spat and Connor tried to smile. But he was too tired. Soon the world started spinning again. Then everything went black again.

* * *

Once Daryl had made sure that Rick wasn't going to shoot Connor the hunter turned around again to check on his friend. The Irishman had closed his eyes again and let go of his hand, which made Daryl worry even more. He placed a hand on his friend's chest to make sure his heart was still beating. He could feel it pounding against his hand, and every once in a while it would either speed up or slow down. Daryl didn't understand what was happening. It had been about hours since Connor had been bit, and just minutes since his heart had first stopped beating.

"Heart's still beatin. Just, come on now, yah stupid leprechaun. Wake up" he demanded and started shaking Connor, hoping to wake him up once more.

"Mum, what's happening to him?" he heard Carl ask and everybody looked at the boy for a moment. Rick sighed and looked at Herschel. The old man nodded and approached them. He knelt down next to Connor, well aware of the way Daryl was glaring at him. The farmer took Connor's bloody arm to take a look at the bite wound, then he placed a hand on his chest and forehead.

"I'd say that he's infected. The fever, the blood poisoning on his arm, the nausea, that indicates a serious infection. We know that bites are supposed to be deadly, but it looks like his body is fighting the infection and won't let him become one of them. It's been too long since the bite, he should be long since dead by now" Herschel concluded and Daryl nodded.

"Would also explain the heart attacks."

"You mean he's immune?" Rick asked and came closer.

He eyed Connor who just lay there, chest heaving. Herschel looked at the policeman and shrugged.

"I don't know yet. We'll have to wait and see. I'd say no one has made it past a heart failure without turning yet."

Daryl glared at Rick and growled.

"See?! He could be our only goddamn hope, there could be a cure or something and yah just wanted t'shoot 'im in the head!"

"We don't know this for sure. It's a double-edged sword. He's been bit, which means he carries their virus. He could still infect all of us."

* * *

**now...**

And once again he found himself leading the group inside. It wasn't like he was their leader, Rick had made it _very_ clear who was in charge now. It was more like he was their vanguard. Kicking doors in, taking the first couple of walkers out. Back in the old days it had been Daryl who had been good at sneaking up on the enemy and killing them quietly, now it was Connor's speciality. Funny how he had turned from a noisy shooting and preaching serial killer into a silent walker killer. The undead never saw him coming. In just a couple of months the group's dynamic had changed drastically. Everyone had their job, which was why Connor would always go in first. He was the vanguard, Daryl the rearguard with his crossbow.

It was the third house they were searching today. Both friends had found the group only about a week earlier, but this wasn't any different from what both men had been doing all winter. Running from walkers, searching towns and houses for food and shelter. Running running, searching searching. This was their life now. As soon as Connor had made sure that no other walker was in the entrance hall he whistled to signalize the group to come in. He didn't even wait for them, the Irishman went straight to the next room. They didn't need words anymore. Everyone went straight for a room, Rick, T-Dog, Daryl, even Carl.

Connor found another walker in the living room. The undead slowly turned around with a tired groan and just looked at him. It would still send a shiver down his spine whenever they were doing that. Connor just stared back at her for a moment, then he threw his knife at her. The blade hit her right in her left eye and threw her back, getting stuck in the wooden wall behind her. The Irishman shook his head and scanned the room for supplies. He had become pretty good at this as well, scanning the rooms for anything useful in just a matter of seconds, without wasting any time. There was nothing but old moldy books and a television with a broken screen.

"Fuck" Connor murmured and turned around. It had been over a week since they had last found something to eat. He froze when he heard the creaking of floorboards next door. The Irishman narrowed his eyes and approached the door slowly and carefully. He could hear someone breathing on the other side. Connor placed a hand on the door handle and pushed the door open, drawing his gun at the same time. A second later he was facing the tip of an arrow. Daryl was standing right in front of him, his crossbow pointed at his head. Connor sighed and put his gun down. Daryl did the same with a mischievous smirk.

"Gave me a heart attack, yah creep" the hunter murmured and entered the room to check it himself.

Connor just snorted and approached the walker he had killed to get his knife back. As soon as the blade was no longer stuck in the wall the walker just fell to the ground, slowly staining the carpet with thick and rotten black blood. He could feel Daryl eyeing his back. _Yeah, things had changed._ He cleaned the blade of his knife and entered the next room without a word.

"Yeah, have a nice day yerself, asshole" he heard Daryl say on the other side of the wall.  
  
That was another story. They didn't really talk anymore. Not since last night.

Connor searched the remaining rooms and found Carl, Maggie and Glenn in the kitchen. He went straight for the cupboards to check them.

"I've already checked them, only found this" he heard Carl say and turned around. The kid was showing him two cans of dog food. Once again he could see the way the boy was looking at him, just like everyone was looking at him all the time. He still hated that sort of look on their faces. Connor just shrugged and searched the rest of the cabinets and cupboards.

"Fresh pair af eyes can't do any harm" he murmured and found an old cereal bar. He threw it at Carl and raised an eyebrow. "See?"

He didn't even wait for an answer and went straight for the next room. Connor came across Daryl in the hallway again. The hunter had managed to shoot an owl upstairs. He didn't even need to ask how he had done it anymore. Daryl was still getting most of their food, he gave him that. Back in the old days he would have made fun of the hunter. Even now he thought of a shit ton of jokes about owls but kept them to himself. For a moment they stared right at each other. It looked like Daryl was just waiting for him to say something, but he just shook his head and looked at Rick. Just like he'd said. Things had changed.

"So?"

Rick nodded and Connor did the same. He headed for the door and whistled, then went back to help Maggie and Glenn with the corpses. A couple of minutes later Carol, Beth, Herschel and a heavily pregnant Lori entered the house as well. When she passed him she smiled at him and Connor returned the smile. Lori was another story. He had been quite surprised when he had first seen her massive belly, and ever since their return he had made it his job to protect her. He didn't even really know why. It was almost like now that Shane was gone he had taken over his role, but not as her new second boyfriend. He wouldn't have any of that.  
  
It was just that now that Rick had changed so much he felt the urge to be a different sort of father figure for Carl, the kid had always kind of needed two father figures after all. He also just felt sorry and worried about Lori. Women and children in need had always been his weak spot, and that hadn't changed after the apocalypse. He took her small bag and helped her inside the living room. He was still trying to avoid any physical contact as good as he could, but at the same time he just couldn't see her wavering around like that.

"Okay?" he asked as she sat down on the sofa. Lori nodded and rubbed her thighs with a smile.

"Yeah, thank you."

Carol came to join them to help her as well, so Connor figured that he didn't need to be there any longer. He nodded and positioned himself by the door to keep watch. He could see Daryl sitting in the corner. He was busy freeing the owl of its feathers. The hunter would stare at him every once in a while. He was staring and waiting. Connor could tell that he was mad at him, but he just wouldn't give in to any of that. He just couldn't.

Carl got his dog food out again and started opening the cans. Everyone was watching him with tired eyes. They were all hungry and exhausted, and even Connor considered eating it, just so they could keep going for a little while longer. He knew that Daryl's owl would probably be for Lori, Carl and a few others, so all that was left would be the two cans of dog food. He didn't even mind much. Back in the old days in Boston he and Murphy had been eating loads of disgusting things. Connor swallowed and turned his head to look outside.  
  
It had been almost a year, and thinking about his brother still made his heart ache. It felt like those days were a lifetime away by now. Boston, their friends, their home. He didn't even know anymore how half of it had looked like before the apocalypse. Sometimes he thought that he would've forgotten what Murphy had looked like if it weren't for Daryl, who happened to have his face. He also didn't even know anymore what it had been like not to be running away from flesh eating monsters every day. What it had felt like not to feel like a monster himself.

He scratched his arm and looked at it. The bite wound had long since disappeared, now there was just an ugly scar. It still hurt every once in a while, but other than that it was doing okay. He startled when Rick threw Carl's food away. Everyone was looking at Rick, who was glaring back at them. Connor knew what this look meant. _Has it really come this far? Are we really eating dog food now_?  
  
Connor just snorted and turned his head again. He didn't like this new Rick. Sometimes it felt like their leader had turned into a tyrant after his friend's death. He wouldn't say anything though. He just knew that there was no sort of democracy going on here, but he had chosen to come back and stay after all. T-Dog suddenly hissed and nodded at the window. Connor turned his head to look and rolled his eyes. They could see another herd of walkers.

"Want me t'.." Connor asked but Rick interrupted him.

"Let's go."


	2. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **edit cos somebody asked** : Connor carries a different version of the virus. I know Rick said that everyone's infected, but now that he's been bit he carries the walker version of the virus, meaning that shit that normally kills people after a bite. Will be explained in later chapters!
> 
>  **setting** : episode 1 " _Seed_ "

**_a couple of days after the farm incident..._ **

"Daryl. We can't stay here. It's too dangerous. We gotta keep moving. That herd is still close.  
  
It will just be a matter of days until it passes us again. We need to get out of this county."

The hunter looked at the group that was surrounding him. He couldn't believe that they were actually suggesting that.

"You know he ain't going nowhere like that. Not like that. He ain't gonna survive, there ain't no space inside the cars.  
We can't move him. Not yet."

Rick pointed out of the window, where an increasing number of walkers was staggering up and down the roads of the small neighborhood.  
For just a few days it had been safe inside this house, this neighborhood, but it looked like no matter where they went the undead were always following them.

"Just look out there! We've stayed here long enough. I gave you time, I gave him more time than we can handle and it looks like it's still getting worse instead of better. We need to move."

"So what do yah want me to do, leave him here to rot?"

Rick massaged the bridge of his nose. Carol stepped closer.

"He's right. Connor is in no condition to move, Rick. If we could.."

"No we can't. This isn't just about Connor, I'm just thinking about the rest of the group.  
The longer we stay here the more dangerous it gets. We need to leave.With him, without him, but we're gonna leave."

"He hardly survived the trip here!"

"Do you think I don't know that? You know, I've kept my thoughts to myself until now, but I think it's time that I speak out what we've all been thinking. He's not gonna make it. He's a danger to us, with every second he's lying there half dead. People can hardly sleep with him around.  
We're just sitting ducks here waiting for him to turn or to die. We're running out of food, it's getting colder every day.."

"Fine, t'hell with y'all then" Daryl growled and made his way back to the room where they kept Connor.

The blonde was still lying there on the bed, bathed in sweat, chest heaving, eyes closed. Sometimes he would wake up and moan about, but right now the Irishman was asleep. Or unconscious. Or whatever the infection was doing to him. The hunter grabbed the wet towel from his friend's forehead and turned it around. Once again he was so incredibly angry. At Connor, at the group which he could hear in the room next door. It sounded like Rick was arguing with the others because of the issue, but Daryl didn't really care.  
  
Truth was that he was fed up with them right now. Of course he knew how dangerous it was, and of course he knew that they needed to move. But at the same time he knew that there was no way Connor would survive another car trip. Out in the open without any walls protecting them. If they ever needed to run out there then the Irishman would be lost. No matter what they did, Connor was going to die out there. He needed to stay here.

He knew that the group was going to move anyway, and he didn't really like either option, but truth was that he would rather stay back with his friend than leave with the group and have the Irishman die. He didn't want to be alone with the group anymore. Not after everything. And even if Connor died here with him, then at least he finally got the chance and leave to search for Merle. Daryl could hear how someone entered the room behind him, but he didn't want to look at whoever was standing there.

"Rick wants to leave" he heard Carol say and wiped the sweat off Connor's face.

"Yeah. I got it. Have a nice ride. I ain't going nowhere."

"Daryl..We need you with us."

"Then stay. As simple as that" he growled and heard how Carol kept coming closer.

"You know it's too dangerous here."

"Yeah. And I know I ain't gonna kill him out there either."

"He's been delirious for days."

The hunter turned around to stare at the woman, who had placed herself next to the door.  
She was looking at both men with a worried look on her face, but at the same time she also just looked upset.

"Maybe it's time you let him go."

Daryl gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together. He turned his head to stare at the man on the bed, whose eyes were squeezed shut.  
He saw the bloody bandage on his arm, the infection that seemed to be getting worse and worse. It was obvious that Connor was in pain and that the fever was still frying him, but at the same time his friend just didn't seem to want to let go. _Why couldn't anybody see that?_

"He ain't going nowhere. He's gonna pull through and he's gonna be just fine."

"Like Sophia?"

The hunter turned his head abruptly and glared at Carol.  
They both just looked at each other, and especially Daryl seemed furious.

"Go" he snarled and Carol looked surprised.

"Daryl..."

"Just go!" the hunter yelled and got up, both hands clenched to a tight fist.  
The woman opposite him looked at him in surprise, obviously both shocked and disappointed because of his behavior.  
She bit her lower lip and sighed.

"If that's what you want."

* * *

The first night was absolutely horrible for him. He couldn't believe that they had really left them. Daryl understood that they had just done what he had asked them to do, but he was still actually surprised. There had been discussions, there had been votings against the decision, the group had nearly fallen apart because of that, but in the end they had still left. Because Rick had changed. Everyone could feel it.  
  
Ever since he had returned from that meadow where he had killed Shane the policeman had turned into someone else. It looked like officer friendly had died with his friend that day. Daryl understood their leader's decision. He had to look after his family. His son. His pregnant wife. He had a group full of weak people he had to get through the winter, protect from danger. This neighborhood happened to be a dangerous place. So of course they had needed to leave.

But still. Daryl couldn't believe they had left him here. With this half dead heavy bastard he'd carried all the way up the stairs and even up the small ladder that connected the attic with the rest of the building. The hunter knew that they would be relatively safe up here, since the ladder was the only way up and down. No walkers could eat them up here. There was just the threat that they could starve to death. Or freeze to death in winter. Or even worse, he could still get eaten alive during the nights, should Connor ever turn all of the sudden.  
  
For a while Daryl just sat on the ground in the far corner of the attic and looked at the man he had dragged with him. His friend was lying there on the ground, bloody arm resting on his rising and falling chest, head fallen to the side and facing the window. His eyes were still closed, he wasn't smiling, wasn't talking, wasn't doing anything apart from sleeping and breathing.

He was such a freaking bastard.

All the things Connor made him do. The fact that this asshole had forced himself into his life like that. Demanding to be healed from his depression, demanding to get a new brother now that he had killed his own. He hated how that man kept begging to be saved, to be healed, to be looked after like a ten year old boy who had lost his mother in a shopping center. And then there was the one thing Daryl hated the most: how he couldn't live without the Irishman anymore.  
  
Realization had hit him like a truck when Connor had told him about the bite. He had to admit, he'd liked the guy right from the beginning, even if he had always treated him like shit. Beaten him. Nearly killed him. Insulted him. Hated him. But right when Connor had stumbled in his life he had grown on him, almost like something was sewing them together.

Liking him the entire time had been one thing, but when he had seen the bite and carried his friend all the way back to camp he had realized that this wasn't about liking, that this wasn't just a platonic friendship. No. It was like an addiction. Like that bastard who was lying in front of him was the best drug on this godforsaken world, like he was something or someone he couldn't get away from. Ever. The endless game that had started right in that filthy church. Connor mattered so much that he hated him for everything he was. Daryl got up and approached the man and kicked his rips gently, trying to wake him up. But Connor would only answer with a muffled groan instead of opening his eyes.

The hunter sighed and looked out of the window. The sun was setting. It was too late to do anything today. He would need to gather some more supplies, blankets, pillows, medical stuff, candles. He would have to make this place a home until Connor got better. And damn right he was going to get better. And even though Daryl tried to stay positive and kept reminding himself that his best friend wasn't going to turn he still decided to stay cautious. He grabbed the red cloth from his back pocket and knelt down to grab Connor's healthy arm.

"Yah better not die you stupid ass" he growled and tied one end of the cloth around his friend's wrist.

"Ain't gonna be risking my life for some dead prick" he went on and then tied the other end of the cloth to the pipe on the wall next to them.

"You ain't gonna die, you ain't gonna turn, you ain't going nowhere" Daryl said and checked whether he had tied his friend up properly.

He was pleased with the result and then looked at his unconscious friend.

"I won't let you, you stupid leprechaun."

* * *

_**now...** _

He could hear Lori groaning and gasping next to him and turned his head to look at her. Rick's wife wasn't in good shape at all.  
She was very pale and would rub her belly every once in a while. Connor sighed and looked at the road again. They were driving down yet another endless road. The Irishman didn't even really know where they were going anymore.

"'s it kickin ye much?" he murmured and Lori looked up. She shook her head and gasped once more.

"It's just the bumpy road, that's all" she answered and the Irishman turned his head to look at her again.

They had been driving around in circles for over an hour now. Truth be told, he was getting sick of all this. Rick's plans, their endless swinging back and forth, staying in houses, warehouses, running away, staying in the next couple of houses, it was pointless. Connor sighed and nodded.

"'m gonna make 'em stop fer a bit"

Lori shook her head.

"Don't.." she murmured but Connor had already honked the horn. The whole convoy slowed down.

Connor got rid of his seatbelt and looked at Lori again.

"Well, somebody's gotta look after ye."

He turned around to look at Beth and Carol who were sitting in the backseat.

"Come on now, ye two. Out with you. Gotta keep an eye on the surroundings.  
Beth, you take this side of the car, Carol, you keep an eye on the other side."

The Irishman looked at Lori again.

"You stay in here and rest fer a bit."

"But.."

Connor shut the door and didn't wait for her to finish. He scanned the surrounding forest for any threats or walkers. Beth had positioned herself right next to their car with an axe in her hand. Connor gave her a small nod and headed for the rest of the group. Maggie, T-Dog and Rick were all gathering around the map again, which they had placed on Rick's Hyundai.

"We got no place left to go" T-Dog said and looked at everyone.

Connor placed himself between Herschel and Glenn. Maggie pointed at the countless red lines and circles they had drawn on the map already, all the places they had marked as temporary hideouts and possible herds of walkers. She pointed at one of the big red circles.

"When this herd meets up with this one, we'll be cut off. We'll never make it south."

"What would you say? That was about 150 head?" Daryl joined in and looked at the group.  
  
A few nodded, but Glenn shook his head.

"That was last week. It could be twice by now."

"So we're blocked" Maggie said and Connor snorted.

"Oh come on people, don't get yer panties in a bunch. Be a little more optimistic here.  
It ain't the end of the world" he murmured and searched the pockets of his jeans.

He cursed himself for forgetting. _Of course_.  
He didn't have any smokes left. Not since February. Rick pointed at the map as well.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27 and swing towards Greenville."

Connor growled and rolled his eyes when he heard the word Greenville.

"Yeah, we picked through that already. Twice. Didn't exactly do us any good."

He shook his head and looked away.

"Fucking Greenville."

The former policeman glared at him and the rest of the group fell silent.  
They all wouldn't look at the two of them and seemed overly interested in other things all of the sudden.

"Yeah I know. I know" Rick said and looked at Connor a little while longer. He then turned around to look at the rest of the group.

"We'll push west. Haven't been through there yet. We can't keep going house to house. Need to find someplace to hole up for a few weeks" he said and looked at his wife who was still sitting in the car. Connor did the same and nodded. "Yeah, we better" he murmured and leaned against the car. Rick was still staring at him, but it was T-Dog who broke the tension.

"All right. Is it cool if we get to the creek before we head out? Won't take long. We gotta fill up on water. We can boil it later."

Rick looked at him and nodded.

"Knock yourself out."

Everyone except for Connor and Rick left after that discussion.  
Once again Rick was staring at the Irishman, who watched Daryl working on his motorbike for a moment.

"Mind telling me what your problem is?" Rick asked and Connor turned his head to look at him.

The Irishman folded his arm and shrugged. He sensed that they could get into a fight, but right now he didn't want to.  
He sighed and turned his head to look at waiting Lori in the car.

"She can't take much more af this moving about, man. Ye gotta make it a bit easier fer her. She's been sitting next ta me fer hours now, and she looks worse every time I look at 'er. Have you been treating her like that all winter? You can't just keep moving around like that. It's fucking pointless and dangerous."

"What else can we do?" Rick asked and frowned angrily.

"Hell, I don't know. 'm just saying. Besides, that is yer fuckin wife, not mine. You should be the one caring about that, nat me.  
 _Especially_ nat me."

The policeman glared at him.

"Keep your opinions to yourself."

Connor startled when someone touched his shoulder then. He turned his head in surprise only to find himself looking at Daryl.

"Hey, while the others wash their panties, let's go hunt" he said and looked him in the eye.  
  
Connor knew what that sort of look meant.  
  
 _Knock it off._

"That owl didn't exactly hit the spot" the hunter went on and Connor sighed.

He still didn't really want to go anywhere with Daryl, simply because he didn't want to talk.  
In the end he figured that his friend was right though, he needed to get away from Rick before all hell broke loose again.

* * *

"Yah ever gonna tell me what your fucking problem is?" Daryl asked and glared at the man next to him.

They had been following the train tracks for a while now, without any luck. They had crossed paths with two walkers but not one single animal. Connor just shrugged and moved a bit further away when Daryl came closer to look him in the eye. The hunter snorted when he didn't get an answer.

"So after everything we've been through this winter yer suddenly acting like I don't exist?  
Just a week ago yah were so goddamn clingy I couldn't breathe and now this?"

Once again Connor wouldn't answer. Daryl growled and shook his head. It was frustrating him way more than it should.

"'m thinking about leaving again" the Irishman finally said and Daryl stopped walking.

"What?"

Connor sighed and stopped as well. He wouldn't look at his friend, he just stared straight ahead.

"Sappose it's probably fer the best. As soon as those people've found a safe place t'stay, as soon as I've made sure that they're safe and everything, then I think 'm gonna leave. Hit the road, maybe make my way back up north. 's up ta you. If ye wanna join me or not. As fer me, I'm leaving no matter what."

He turned around when Daryl wouldn't say anything. The hunter was glaring at him for a long while and then snorted.

"I ain't going nowhere. And neither are you. We only just got back to the group."

Connor nodded and started walking again.

"Aye. Exactly. It ain't te same anymore."

"What 'bout Lori? And Carl? And all the others? Man, you saw 'em when we got back. They need us.  
There's too much shit going on out there. We hardly made it back here, ain't no chance Lori and the baby are gonna make it without us."

The Irishman snorted.

"Aye, cos I'm gonna make such a difference when no one even wants me fuckin near 'em" Connor muttered and Daryl froze.

"What?"

Connor stopped walking as well and turned around to look at his friend.

"Oh come on, don't act all stupid. Ye can't tell me ye didn't hear 'em last night."

"I didn't" Daryl lied and his friend raised an eyebrow.

Connor didn't want to fight, didn't want to discuss the issue right now, so he turned around with a tired sigh and started walking again.

"Af course ye didn't hear 'em."

Daryl followed him with just the same frustrated sigh.

"So this is what it's all about. Still don't get why yah have to treat me like shit then, jackass. I didn't do nothing."

"Just shut it" Connor growled and kept walking.

Daryl was just about to say something to that when Connor suddenly stopped walking and looked at something to their right.

"Jesus..." he murmured and Daryl came to a halt right next to him. Both men looked at their new discovery in surprise.

They were now facing a giant prison just a couple of yards down the hill.  
There were hundreds of walkers roaming through the fenced-in prison yard.  
Most of them were still wearing their uniforms and anti riot suits.

"Wow, that's a shame" Daryl said and they eyed the facility for a couple of minutes, searching for an entrance or any other problems apart from the walkers.

Although there was some slight damage it looked like the prison was intact, with multiple rows of fences and guard towers separating the buildings from their surroundings.

"Jesus, and I thought I'd never see the inside af a fucking prison after the Hoag again" Connor said and Daryl frowned.

"What?"

Connor looked at him and shrugged.

"Just look at this fucking place, it's perfect. We got fences surrounding the area, and you bet it is hard t'get in.  
You got any idea how hard it is t'get outta prison?"

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah well, I've never been stupid enough t'get my ass caught and thrown in one, smartass."

The Irishman rolled his eyes and looked at the facility again.

"Besides, are yah blind? There's a shitton of walkers" the hunter went on and pointed at the staggering figures.  
  
Connor shrugged.

"I could take 'em on."

His friend snorted once more.

"Just cos yah survived a bite it don't mean that yer fucking invincible."

"You've seen how they react t'me" the Irishman just said and Daryl growled.

"Yeah, and I already told yah that you shouldn't rely on that shit."

Connor turned around and started walking again.

"Come on, let's tell the group about it."


	3. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 1 " _Seed_ "

_**a couple of days after the farm incident...** _

"Why the hell are ye doing all this?"

Daryl looked at the man next to him. Connor was a shivering and coughing mess, his body was still fighting the fever and inflammations on his arm and shoulder after all. The Irishman was lying on a filthy mattress they had found downstairs, and he was wrapped in a whole bunch of blankets. The hunter snorted and turned his head to let his gaze wander. He shrugged and got back to gutting the few squirrels he had caught. When his friend wouldn't answer Connor turned his head and looked at him.

"Daryl."

The hunter growled and threw some of the bloody guts away.

"Cos I thought yah were dead" Daryl murmured and still wouldn't look at Connor. The Irishman sighed.

"That's cos I was."

They didn't speak for a while. Too many things had happened at once. Things they had absolutely _no_ explanation for.  
Connor coughed and stared at his wounded arm.

"I mean you said so yerself, my heart stopped beating. I was fuckin done, yah were about ta shoot me in the head and then.."

He sighed and shook his head.  
Daryl finally had the guts to look at his friend.

"'m glad I didn't have to."

The Irishman wouldn't say anything, because he didn't feel the same way about it. He had accepted his death already, had forgiven himself.  
Now that he thought about it, he'd been looking forward to being reunited with Murphy. And here he was.

"Any idea what the fuck's going on?" his friend asked after a while and looked at him with a frown.

Connor shrugged and coughed once more.

" I got no clue. Something's wrong with me blood. Or more like _not_ wrong. Maybe I'm immune or some sorta shit like that."

He sighed and stared at the ceiling.

"Murph told me that I've still got a purpose here, that there's still a path fer me. When I saved you fram that walker a couple of days ago I thought that he meant me saving yer life, but maybe he meant something else….Mysterious ways, mysterious ways."

Daryl chuckled and looked at his friend again. All these months he had tried to be pissed off all the time. He had tried to hate Connor, yell at him, hurt him. But those times were over. The couple of minutes he had spent screaming for him to wake up and when he had begged him not to be dead had brainwashed him. Not to mention how he had taken care of his friend for the past couple of days, healing his wounds, feeding him, keeping him alive.  
  
He had learned how much he really appreciated their friendship, and he would no longer hide that. For him it was a sign. That there was still hope. Not only because his friend had done the impossible and survived a bite, but also because if his blood really was different, then maybe there was a cure. Connor suddenly groaned and put a hand on his forehead.

"Jesus Christ, I feel like shit" he murmured and Daryl snorted once more.

"Yer gonna live."

He offered his friend a couple of bloody pieces of squirrel meat.

"Here."

Connor raised an eyebrow after another coughing fit.

"Are ye fucking disgusting? I ain't gonna eat that shit."

"Shut up and don't be such a fucking pussy. You gotta eat. Besides, now that yah carry their stuff after that geek took a mouthful of your leprechaun flesh you gotta be craving for bloody raw meat, right?"

The Irishman narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fuck you" he growled and tried to grab some of the food, but his hands were so shaky that he couldn't hold it and let it drop to the ground.

Daryl looked at the meat on the ground, then he gave his friend a death glare.

"Perfect."

* * *

_**two weeks after the farm incident...** _

"What the hell are yah doing out here on yer own?" Connor heard Daryl say and snorted.

The Irishman took a long drag on his cigarette and stared at the opposite house. It had been over two weeks since he had been bitten, and he was feeling better every day. It was getting cold outside and it was still early morning, which was why he could see the first signs of frost.

"Needed some fresh air" he murmured and Daryl came to a halt right next to him.

He snatched the cigarette from his friend's hand and looked at it.

"Look like fresh air t'you?"

Connor raised an eyebrow and looked at Daryl.

"What are ye, my mother? What's it gonna do, kill me?"

The hunter snorted and tried to take a drag from the cigarette, but Connor grabbed his wrist.

"Are ye fucking stupid?!"

Daryl frowned.

"What? Yah can share one stupid cigarette, egoistic bastard."

The Irishman took it back and threw it away.

"You fucking know what 'm talking about" he growled and put his hands in his pockets. Daryl looked at his friend.

"You're not seriously telling me that yah still believe in that shit."

"Well, we don't have ta strain our luck, do we?"

Daryl rolled his eyes and hit Connor's shoulder hard. The Irishman winced because it was the one with the healing bullet wound.

"How many times do I have t'tell yah? I already came in direct contact with your snot and I'm doing fine. You ain't one of them, man."

Connor turned around and glared at the hunter.

"Oh, ye think so? Then how come this fucking chick over there didn't attack me?"

Daryl turned his head to see who his friend was pointing at.  
He could see the body of an elderly woman lying there face down on the pavement just a couple of meters down the road.  
It made him frown.

"That's cos she's dead, dumbass."

"Aye, cos I fuckin killed her" Connor growled and turned around to start walking in circles.

"I was out here having a cig when she walked by. And I mean fucking _by_. She just looked at me, turned around again and walked off. So I followed her, but she didn't seem bothered at all. It was so ridiculously easy t'stab the back of her head, like I was fucking invisible or some shit."

He put a hand on his hip and rubbed his chin nervously. Daryl just stared at his friend through narrowed eyes.

"Yah lying" he growled and Connor glared at him.

He wanted to shove Daryl, punch his face for calling him a liar, but right now he didn't even want to be near him.  
He snorted and shook his head.

"I ain't lying, why should I? It's te fucking truth."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"Maybe you should go back t'the group on yer own."

Daryl frowned.

"What?"

"Just think about it, it would freak 'em out. Hell, it freaks me out."

The hunter shoved him once more.

"Stop talking bullshit. We promised we'd get back t'them. You're obviously back on yer feet, so there's no need t'stay back and lie low anymore."

"But.."

Daryl growled and grabbed Connor by his new leather jacket.

"I said yah ain't going nowhere. You owe them. You owe me."

The Irishman glared back at him and bit his lower lip. Daryl snorted and let go of him.

"Besides, what they don't know won't hurt 'em."

* * *

_**now...** _

Connor watched Rick with a frown. Their leader was cutting a hole in the fence, which he thought was a pretty stupid idea. He had suggested that they should look for another entrance but , being the stubborn leader that the former policeman was, Rick had insisted on his version. They could hear how the growling and snarling got louder as more and more walkers came to surround them. The Irishman looked up every once in a while to check on the group behind him. He could tell that especially the women were scared, but whenever a walker came closer Glenn and Maggie were there to kill them with their hatchets and sticks.

"Watch the backside!" Rick demanded and they changed position.

"Got it" Lori answered and checked her small gun, which made Connor shake his head. He approached her to help her through the hole Rick had cut in the fence, but not without giving him an angry head shake. T-Dog was the last to get in, and as soon as everyone was inside the small fenced-in area that the former prison guards had used for their patrols Glenn and Daryl used binders to close the hole.

"Hurry" Connor growled when he saw a whole bunch of walkers heading for the fence. He shoved Glenn away to help Daryl, and they closed the hole just in time. A female walker threw herself against the fence and tried to attack the hunter, which forced the whole group to keep moving as fast as they could. Connor checked the binders once more just to make sure, then he rushed after them.

"Fucking stupid idea" he growled and Daryl turned his head to look at him with a grin.

"Why, yah scared? It was your idea t'tell em."

"Yeah, well, my plan didn't involve any fucking holes in the fences, might as well give the walkers an invitation. Free food! Nice and easy ta get!" he yelled because the walkers were getting louder and louder. Countless of imprisoned walkers were piling up on the fences around them and even he had to admit that the prison didn't seem so inviting and safe anymore.  
  
 _How the fuck were they gonna clean the whole thing out?_  
  
Strange immunity side effects aside, even he didn't want to step in there and kill them, despite their obvious lack of interest in him.

They kept running and circling the field in front of the prison until they reached a massive gate, which was not only closed but also blocked by a bus which had been turned over and lay on its side right in front of it.

"It's perfect" Rick panted when they came to a halt. Once again Connor tried to keep his distance from everyone, especially now that he was sweating. He still didn't know if he could infect any of them or how, and although it had become pretty clear that it was unlikely to happen he still stayed out of their reach.  
  
He rubbed his leg because it was aching again. Ever since the car accident last year he could still feel it, where the glass had cut his flesh and muscles. It had healed and now there was nothing but a scar, but he could still tell that it had caused some permanent damage. Rick suddenly pointed at another gate on the other side of the fenced-in yard.

"If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick of these walkers. We'll take the field by tonight."

Everyone looked at Rick with a frown, obviously not liking the idea at all.

"But how do we shut the gate?" Herschel asked the question which everyone seemed to think about.

"I'll do it. You guys cover me" Glenn spoke up and everyone looked at him. Maggie shook her head.

"No. It's a suicide run" she tried to reason with her boyfriend, but Glenn ignored her.

"I'm the fastest."

Rick shook his head.

"No, you, Maggie and Beth draw as many as you can over there" he said and pointed at the fence behind them. "Pop them through the fence. Daryl go back to the other tower. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot. Take your time. We don't have a lot of ammo to waste" their leader went on and pointed at one of the many prison guard towers. " Herschel, you and Carl take this tower. Connor, you join them."

The Irishman shook his head.

"No."

Rick froze and everyone stared at him.

"Listen, now is not the time..."

Connor shook his head.

"I ain't questioning yer authority or any of that crap. I just wanted t'tell ye that I'm going in. You stay here with yer kid and yer pregnant wife.  
Got a whole lot more t'lose than me."

"This is not up for any debate. I appreciate your concern, but I'll run for the gate."

Connor wanted to answer, but Daryl suddenly grabbed him by his arm and pulled him back.

"Are yah fucking insane?" he whispered and his friend raised an eyebrow.

"What? 's a good idea, they won't come after me, I stand a pretty good chance out there, Rick can't really say that about himself, can he?"

"Do yah want everyone t'know, dumbass?"

Connor got rid of his friend's hand and growled.

"Fuck you, I ain't getting anyone killed just so I can keep me secrets. Just like Maggie said, it's a fucking suicide run!"

Daryl glared at him.

"As soon as yah heard her say it you were all for this stupid plan!" the hunter hissed but Connor walked away from him.

"Screw ye."

"Connor!"

The Irishman went back to Rick who had been watching them with a frown.

"I'm going in" Connor repeated and the other man looked at him for a while. He turned his head to look at his wife, then he sighed.

"No, _we_ are going in."

* * *

No matter how relieved he was that walkers seemed no longer interested in him ever since the bite, even that knowledge couldn't really keep him calm right now. He grabbed both his guns tight and took a deep breath, being well aware of all the walkers that were piling up on the fences to their right. The road in front of them was clear, but only god knew how many walkers were on the other side of that bus. He looked at Rick and nodded. The other man nodded as well and looked at his wife to give her the sign to open the door.  
  
Connor turned his head to look at Lori as well, and before she opened the gate she placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze. The Irishman nodded and looked back at the gate in front of him, feeling awkward all of a sudden. He wasn't the one who was supposed to get that sort of reassurance, especially not from a woman whose husband was standing right next to him. Rick didn't seem to mind though, he was concentrating on the walkers in front of them. They could hear Beth, Maggie, T-Dog and Glenn shouting at the walkers and shaking the fences. Then, without a warning, Lori pulled the gate open. Rick nodded and stepped out at first, Connor followed him a second later.

Being on the other side of the fence made it real and dangerous. The last time they had come across so many walkers had been back at the farm, and he knew how that had ended. Rick and Connor started running as soon as they had made their way around the bus. A white gravel road led straight up to the next gate, which separated the field from the prison yard. About a dozen walkers were staggering in their direction, and Connor was surprised to see one of them coming right at him.  
  
He took aim and shot the former prisoner right in the head. _Maybe this is way harder than I thought_ he thought and shot another walker which was coming dangerously close to Rick. Their leader was the one with the lock for the gate, so he had to be protected, no matter what. Connor cheered when they were getting closer to the gate, but a loud zap startled him. He came to an abrupt halt when a walker fell to his feet just a couple of inches away from him, with an arrow stuck in the back of his head.

"Jesus" he gasped and looked up to search the towers for Daryl. He was standing on top of the next closest tower with his crossbow pointed right at him. Connor snorted and shook his head. "Fucker" he murmured and ran after Rick who had almost made it up the hill.

As soon as they reached the next section of the prison they had to realize that there were even more walkers inside, way more than they could kill. They didn't have much ammo left, and after running around and fighting all day they were beginning to feel exhausted. Connor shot another five walkers that were coming too close to the gate, which Rick was closing as quickly as possible.   
  
The Irishman soon put his guns back in his leg holsters and grabbed his bowie-knife instead, so he could stab some of the walkers through the fence while their leader was busy with the lock. They eventually managed to close the gate, but when they turned around they had to realize that they were completely surrounded by walkers. No matter how many of them got shot by the other members of the group, there was no way out. Connor put his knife away and grabbed both his guns to shoot a few of them.

"Shit! What do we do?" he yelled and looked at Rick.

Although most of the walkers were heading for the former policeman, he didn't feel safe at all right now.  
Daryl had told him after all. _You shouldn't rely on that shit,_ he remembered him saying and growled.

"What do we do?" he yelled once more and Rick turned his head to look at him.

His eyes widened in surprise and he pointed at something behind Connor.

"The tower! Quick!"

The Irishman turned around in surprise and saw a door right in front of him. He shot another walker and started running. When they reached the very top of the tower they saw that the other members of the group were already busy shooting the rest of the walkers.  
  
The never-ending banging downstairs wouldn't stop, so Connor leaned over the rails to shoot the walkers that were still knocking on the door to the tower he and Rick were standing on. Rick had taken his rifle by now and wouldn't stop laughing, whereas Connor was still busy shooting walkers.

"What's so funny?" he shouted over his shoulder and looked at the other man with a frown.  
Rick took aim and chuckled once more. He shot a walker on the road to their left.

"Nothing. We just did it."

Connor snorted and reloaded his guns.

"Aye, but yer plan's still batshit crazy" he murmured and shook his head. He couldn't fight a smile though.

"But we did it" Rick said once more and smirked as well.

More and more of the remaining walkers in the yard were falling to the ground. It made Connor snort, but at the same time he felt sick.  
All he could think about was that he could have been one of those poor bastards back then, and he sure as hell wouldn't have wanted anyone to laugh about that.


	4. Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 1 " _Seed_ " **** __  
> 

_**Two days after the farm incident...** _

Daryl didn't get what was so different at first. He looked up with a frown and listened, trying to make out the change. It was quiet. Too quiet. The hunter frowned and looked at his friend, who he had put on one of the filthy mattresses he had found downstairs. Connor was lying there on his back, fresh and white bandages around his injured arm and shoulder.  
  
Daryl had wrapped him in a whole bunch of blankets because whenever he touched his friend he was freezing cold. But this wasn't the problem now. The problem was that something was different and the hunter didn't have a clue what it was. He just stared and listened for a second, until he finally understood what was going on.

"No!" he yelled and dropped everything, trying his hardest to get to his friend as fast as possible.

Now he knew what was wrong, why it was too quiet.  
Connor's raspy breathing had stopped and his friend was just lying there, chest neither rising nor falling.

"No you stupid prick!" Daryl yelled and placed his head on the Irishman's chest.

No breathing. No heartbeat. The hunter stared at his friend's pale face with wide eyes and started pumping his chest.

"No no no no no!" he muttered as he kept pumping and pumping.

Suddenly it felt like he was back inside the shed. Right after he had cut Connor's rope. His friend was about to die, and he needed to do something. Pumping and pumping and still no breathing. Daryl stared at Connor in horror until his eyes lingered on his friends mouth. He pressed his lips together and kept pumping, but he knew that he needed to do this.   
  
He knew the consequences, knew the danger, but right now he was so panicked that he ignored everything, the infection, the possibility of his best friend being a walker, and leaned down to perform a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He didn't want Connor to die. So he kept pumping and pumping and breathing and breathing for the blonde until he finally heard the reassuring and yet terrifying violent coughing.

Daryl fell back and sat down on the ground, moving both his hands through his hair with an awkward gasp. He was just as shocked as Connor, who was staring at him with wide eyes and wouldn't stop coughing. Both men just kept staring at each other, Daryl's eyes being nothing but slids, Connor's eyes opened wide in terror.

"Don't you ever do that again you asshole" the hunter finally managed to say, but it looked like the Irishman didn't even really hear him or know what was going on.

And when Daryl saw the look on his friend's face he had doubts for the first time. No, he was even _scared_. So many questions were going through his mind now, buzzing and buzzing and bugging him. _What if Connor really couldn't make it and would die sooner or later?_ He couldn't do this forever. He couldn't bring him back forever. _What if there was too much damage?_   
  
He leaned forward when the Irishman's head fell to the side again. He felt his pulse, checked his chest for a heartbeat and steady breathing. Everything was there. Everything was working. Connor was just unconscious again. _Or was he?_ Daryl let out another awkward gasp and kept staring at his friend's face. _What if the infection had done too much damage already?_ _He remembered the look on Connor's face. What if his brain was damaged because of the fever, what if this wasn't just the infection, what if those were proper strokes?_

Connor had to be done. It was over. For both of them. Daryl tried to clean his lips. He had come in direct contact with his friend's body fluids when he had tried to get him to breathe again. _What if he was infected now?_ He hadn't been thinking. He shouldn't have done it.  
  
Carol was right. He should have let that bastard go. This was too much. Too much responsibility. Too much caring, too much hurt. Too much confusion and fear. He needed to get the hell out of here. Daryl got up with a grunt and headed for the ladder as fast as he could, still wiping his mouth and spitting to get anything infected off of him.

* * *

_**Three weeks after the farm incident...** _

They were lying on two mattresses, trying to get some sleep before tracking their group down the next day. Connor had gone through a miraculous recovery, and apart from his healing wounds and a few coughing fits every once in a while he was doing fine. He could stay on his feet most of the day again, being somewhat strong enough to make it through.  
  
The nausea and all his throwing up blood had stopped completely, and except for the pain in his arm most of the cramps had stopped as well, which was why they had decided to make their way back to Rick and the other people. Neither of them could really sleep, no matter how secure the attic really was, and it weren't exactly the walkers they were afraid of. Just thinking about the group's possible reaction made them both cringe.

When Rick and the others had left Daryl with Connor they had made it pretty clear that they didn't really believe in a possible recovery, but they had still given the hunter the chance to try to safe his friend on his own. Connor had made it, now they just needed to find out what the others thought about it, if they wanted someone with them who could be infectious and dangerous.   
  
Daryl didn't believe in any of this, he wouldn't have been able to sleep otherwise. Maybe he had been a bit stubborn and foolish at first, but results had shown that there was no need to worry. He had been with his friend for a couple of weeks now, and he hadn't turned, and neither had Connor managed to bite him or kill him or infect him or do anything the others had been so afraid of.

"Yah asleep?" Daryl murmured and turned his head to look at the man on the other mattress.

Connor turned his head and looked at him as well.

"Does it look like et?"

The hunter snorted and stared at the ceiling again. They kept quiet for a while, until the Irishman shifted.

"Do ye really wanna go back t'them?"

Daryl nodded after a while.

"Yeah. Sure. Group's grown on me."

Connor turned his head and looked at his friend, who chuckled after a moment.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just thought 'bout something stupid."

"Like what?"

The hunter shrugged.

"Yah remember all the things I did and said at first cos yah were so annoying?"

Connor snorted and stared at the ceiling again.

"Aye. How could I ferget that shit."

"Now that I think about it, could get used to the whole thing."

"What thing?"

Daryl scratched his nose and shook his head absently.

"The whole two men group thing."

Connor chuckled.

"Oh how sweet, she's admitting her feelings fer me."

The hunter frowned and turned his head to look at his friend.

"Yah stupid?"

"What's up next, te big revelation?"

Daryl growled.

"Oh shut up, I don't mean like that."

"Want some more alone time with me?" Connor went on and grinned.

"I said shut up!"

"Wanna cuddle?"

"I'm warning yah!"

The Irishman laughed even more and sighed.

"Alright. It's okay. I was just shitting you."

"Screw yah" Daryl growled and turned his back on his friend. Connor smirked and looked at his back for a while.

"Love ye, too, Darylena."

"I swear t'fucking god, 'm gonna kill yah."

The Irishman chuckled once more and shook his head. He sighed and fell quiet, lost in thoughts for a moment.

"Eh Daryl?"

"What is it now, yah annoying freak."

"Should I ever die and turn all of a sudden..."

"Yah ain't gonna turn, yah obviously can't y.."

"I know, but if it ever happens, don't fucking hesitate again."

Daryl turned around and looked at his friend in surprise.

"What?"

"Should I ever turn then I want ye t'promise me that yer gonna pull the trigger this time. Really pull it."

They just stared at each other. Daryl snorted and turned around again.

"Certainly gonna promise yah that 'm gonna pull it way before that if yah keep annoying the crap outta me."

* * *

_**now...** _

Daryl was pacing up and down the turned over bus for what felt like the millionth time. Most of the group were sitting around the campfire whereas he, Rick and Connor were keeping watch on the surrounding area. The Irishman and the leader of the group were walking up and down the fences on each side of the field, and it was Daryl's turn to just keep an eye on the gate that led back outside.  
  
They had managed to get their cars inside as well, and since they were lined up right on the other side of the gate the hunter doubted that any sort of walker mob would be piling up on it anyway, but they could never be careful enough. He would turn around every once in a while to look how Rick and Connor were doing, especially how his friend was doing. Ever since they had cleaned out the field the Irishman had gone back to ignoring him, and it was still driving the hunter insane. He thought he did not deserve this after everything they had been through, after everything he had done for him.

Daryl was still firmly convinced that the reasons why his friend decided to stay away from them were completely and utterly stupid and insane. Yeah, he kind of understood that Connor was afraid of infecting anyone with the version of the virus he obviously seemed to carry. The whole group had made it pretty clear that they didn't trust him and decided to stay out of his reach. Daryl knew the truth. Connor couldn't turn anyone, and the fact the group was thinking he could annoyed the crap out of him.   
  
And this wasn't the only problem.  
  
Not only the group was handling the infection the wrong way, the Irishman was doing just the same. No matter how many walkers seemed to ignore Connor because of that strange peculiarity, there had been a few who had reacted differently to it by now. He had seen it just a couple of hours ago. He had tried to tell his friend a couple of times, that maybe the infection was fading and that he was becoming "normal" again, which meant that there was no need to stay away from anyone anymore, but Connor had simply been too stubborn to listen to him properly.

Daryl sighed and shook his head. He could see the Irishman pacing up and down the fence to his left, and every once in a while he would stop walking and placed his hand on the fence. He was pretty sure that there were other walkers who seemed to ignore his friend again. The hunter growled and turned around. He didn't even want to see it. It was still creeping him out. His whole overprotectiveness was creeping him out.  
  
Just a couple of months ago he had tried anything to get rid of that whiny Irishman. He had been praying to god that Connor would just leave him alone and stop following him, and he had beaten him bloody more than once because of that. And here he was now, months later, and just the idea of his friend leaving him was freaking him out. Now that Connor had stopped being so goddamn clingy and called him Daryl instead of Murphy the guy had really grown on him.   
  
When they had been alone for all those months it had made their friendship even stronger, almost to a point where he had become some sort of replacement for Murphy and Connor had become a replacement for Merle. They had really become some sort of brothers, a team of their own, but now that they were back together with the group their whole relationship had gone to shit again, only that it was Connor who was withdrawing from him this time and not the other way round.

Daryl startled when he heard the rustling of grass below. He grabbed his crossbow and looked down, only to see that Carol was trying to get up and join him. He sighed and threw his weapon over his shoulder so he could give her a hand and help her up. The hunter glared at the plate she had brought with her. He inspected the food and looked at her with a frown.

"It's not much, but if I don't bring you something, you won't eat at all."

Daryl knew that it was true. For the past couple of days he had gone hunting and brought little food back with him, and most of the time he had given his rations to the people who needed it more than him. A couple of months ago it had been Connor, now he was giving pregnant Lori most of his food. He looked at Carol for a second, then he started eating and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess little Shane over there has got quite the appetite" he murmured and made Carol snort.

"Don't be mean" she said and smirked. "Rick's gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would, I'll give him that."

He nodded and looked at the rest of the group.

"Would've gotten a lot farther if yah people stopped bitchin about him all the time" he murmured when he remembered all the discussions he had witnessed for the past couple of days. Carol didn't seem to have heard him, because she kept talking.

"Shane could never have done that" she murmured and sighed.

They were quiet for a while, and Carol turned her head to watch Connor, who was coming closer by now.

"He still not talking to you?"

Daryl shrugged and put another handful of food in his mouth.

"Dumbass's just bitchy cos he ain't got none of his precious cancer sticks left."

Carol snorted once more and chuckled.

"Yeah, if he does talk, then he won't stop complaining about that."

Daryl nodded eagerly and laughed once.

"Should've seen and heard him the first couple of weeks when he run out. Unbearable."

They both watched the Irishman a little while longer until Daryl sighed.

"He don't wanna stay" he said quietly and Carol turned around to look at him.

"What? Why?"

Daryl looked at the woman opposite him for a while and swallowed some of the food.

"Yah know why" he muttered in reference to what he had heard yesterday night.

The talk Carol and Beth had had when they had thought that no one could hear them.

_He's creeping me out. What if he infects us or turns? I don't want him near us._

Carol just looked at him for a while and sighed.

"He's just making me feel uncomfortable whenever he's around. The whole group feels the same way about him in fact.  
Sometimes I think, what if he turns all of a sudden and kills us when we're sleeping?"

Daryl snorted and frowned.

"Don't be stupid, he's still the same guy. He might be a dumbass leprechaun, but he's got his heart in the right place. He'd never hurt any of you. Didn't hurt a single hair on my head for the past couple of months. And it ain't contagious. Highly unlikely that dumbass's gonna infect anyone. I'm living proof. 'm still standing here, ain't I?"

Carol sighed and nodded.

"I know. We know. But still. I just can't fight that feeling of unease whenever he's around. It's just...not natural. I don't trust this."

"Well, if it helps yah sleep, I can tell you that we got our little arrangement. Gonna shoot the guy, should he ever turn."

"Well, you couldn't do it last time."

Daryl fell quiet and just glared at Carol. Yeah, he knew how last time had ended. But his weakness was the very reason Connor was still alive, so he kept his opinion to himself instead of yelling at Carol again. He noticed that she wouldn't stop moving and massaging her right shoulder. Daryl ate the rest of his food and just watched her for a moment.

"What's wrong?" he asked and she looked at him.

"It's that rifle. The kickback. I'm just not used to it."

Daryl just stared at her shoulder for a moment. His mind was racing. He knew what he could do and should do, but there was still that part in him that just wanted to shut his brain off completely. That was another thing. He hated to admit it, but it had also been Connor who had taught him that physical contact wasn't necessarily a bad thing.   
  
Just a couple of months ago, before he had met his friend, he would have run away from any sort of physical contact, and whenever the Irishman had tried to touch or hug him the first couple of weeks he had fought his way out of it. But due to Connor's obstinacy he had been forced to get used to it, and now he was comfortable enough with the whole thing that he could actually return some of it. He put his plate down and grunted.

"Hold on" he murmured and cleaned his hands.

He still felt awkward and tense because of the whole thing, but he ended up massaging Carol's shoulder nevertheless. The hunter could feel how tense her shoulder really was, so he tried to loosen it up as could as he could. Carol turned her head after a while and smiled at him, which made him feel awkward all over again. He let go of her and looked at her.

"Better get back, check on that stupid leprechaun" he murmured and adjusted his crossbow because it was about to slide down his arm.

"That was pretty romantic" Carol said and didn't seem to want to let it go. "Wanna screw around?"

For a second he just glared at her, completely taken aback. He was used to this sort of joking around, simply because Connor had been annoying him with it all the time. He had never heard Carol say something like that, no woman in general, which was why he didn't really know how to react to it.

"Pff" he answered, but couldn't fight a smile then. Carol started grinning and laughing, which made him smile even more.   
He liked this new Carol a lot more, because he could somewhat stop blaming himself for the loss of her daughter.  
He chuckled and shook his head.

"I'll go down first" he murmured as he tried to get off the bus.

"Even better" Carol answered and giggled even more.

Daryl glared at her and frowned, because it was reminding him way too much of Connor's weird humor now.

"Stop" he growled and jumped down.

* * *

"Please don't feed the animals" Connor heard Daryl say and turned around.

He had been lost in thoughts for a moment, staring at a walker on the other side of the fence.   
He saw how his friend came closer, with a poncho strapped around his shoulders and the crossbow on his back.  
The Irishman snorted and waited for him.

"Saw yer little flirting session with Carol over there, yer a womanizer now?" he countered and Daryl snorted as well.

"Why, yah jealous?"

"Why, are ye cheating on me?"

Connor chuckled when his friend tried to hit his shoulder and started walking again.

"Careful, don't touch what you can't afford, Darylena."

"Nah, screw yah" Daryl growled and they started walking down the fence.

He waited for Connor to say something, to keep their constant banter going, but once again the Irishman would just stop talking.

"Yah still thinking about leaving?" the hunter murmured and looked at his friend.   
  
Connor moved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"Well, look at this prison, looks pretty comfy, don't it? They got nice fences and everything, Lori can give birth ta her little fella, they're gonna be safe and sound. So no need t'worry and feel guilty or anything. So yeah, aye."

Daryl snorted.

"I ain't gonna leave. It can be a safe place for us as well."

"People don't want me here, man. And I don't know if I want me t'be with people either."

The younger man rolled his eyes and growled.

"Don't talk bullshit, of course people want yah here. Yer a good fighter, you protect the group just fine."

Connor snorted.

"And ye think I couldn't hear what you and Carol were talking 'bout?"

Daryl took a deep breath and sighed. He could see her walking back to the group, and Rick was returning as well.  
It looked like they were all watching them now, watching and waiting.

"It's just Carol, man. Believe me, they want yah here."

The Irishman frowned and searched his pockets absently, only to curse himself once more.   
  
_Oh right, no fucking cigarettes. Old habits die hard._

"You've seen the looks they're giving me all te time, and damn right ye heard them yesterday.  
You saw te look on their faces when we got back."

"Stop being such a whiny pussy 'bout it. What do yah want 'em to do? Bring you flowers?   
Smile at you, make goo-goo eyes atcha? Grow up."

"Fuck you" Connor growled and checked the fence to their left. Daryl sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I get what yer aiming at, and yeah, I've seen and heard 'em talk about yah more than once.  
But I don't care, _I_ want yah here, you stupid ass.   
You can't just turn your back on us, on me, after everything I've done for you freak."

Connor sighed and looked down. Oh how he hated when his friend played that card.  
  
He turned around and looked at Daryl.

"Well then, leave with me" he said and the hunter frowned.

"What?"

"You said so yerself, ye could get used t'it. 't was a pretty neat time out there. Tough shit aside. Ye know we two work just fine. Truth be told, I don't need anyone anymore, but I don't wanna go out there on my own. And I certainly don't wanna turn my back on yer ugly face, fer obvious reasons. But I just don't wanna stay with this group anymore. I just fucking can't. Not only because of the large number af people 'm putting at risk here everyday 'm near them with this stupid infection, but also cos I don't like te new Rick. He's changed."

Daryl just eyed Connor for a while.

"Rick ain't no bad guy."

"Aye. Maybe. But he ain't no good guy either. Not anymore."

The hunter raised an eyebrow.

"Who is these days? Yah certainly ain't a good guy either, depending on yer view on things. Hell, even I ain't no good guy, and the whole good guy-bad guy thing is just stupid. Seriously. There ain't no black and white here anymore. There never has been."

The Irishman just looked at him for a while and sighed.

"I know..just..just leave me alone fer a bit, aye? I need ta think this shit through."

Both men wouldn't stop staring at each other until the younger shook his head and sighed.

"Whatever" he growled and turned around to leave.


	5. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 1 " _Seed_ "

They were all standing and sitting around the campfire, and even Connor came to join them after a while. He tried to keep his distance, but didn't want to miss anything either. Both Maggie and Beth were singing a song for their father and it was somewhat calming after everything they had been through today. For a while the Irishman just stood there with folded arms and listened, thinking about all the songs and music they'd never be able to hear again. Music and movies, those were the things he really missed. The Greene sisters stopped singing after a while, and Herschel smiled.  
  
"Beautiful" he said and Glenn placed a hand on his girlfriends thigh.  
  
No one said anything and watched the flames until Rick shifted.

"Better all turn in" he murmured and looked at all of them.

"I'll take watch over there. Got a big day tomorrow."

Everyone seemed irritated because of this statement, but it was Glenn who spoke up.

"What do you mean?"

Rick looked down and started playing with a blade of grass. He sighed.

"Look, I know we're all exhausted" he answered and looked at them again.

"This was a great win. But we've got to push just a little bit more."

No one said anything. They all just looked at him and waited for him to go on.

"Most of the walkers are dressed as guards and prisoners. Looks like this place fell pretty early. It could mean the supplies may be intact" their leader concluded and Connor turned his head to look at the prison. He could see a couple of stray walkers staggering around in front of the dark shadowy buildings and blocks. For a moment it made him think about the Hoag. He wondered if it looked just the same. He sighed and turned his head to look at the group again with a nod.

"Places like these are pretty well stocked. 's like a small town. Got an infirmary, a commissary.."

Daryl looked at him with a frown "An armory?"

Connor nodded and wanted to answer, but Rick interrupted him.

"That would be outside the prison itself, but not too far away. Warden's offices would have info on the location. Weapons, food, medicine.  
This place could be a gold mine."

Connor snorted.

"Never thought I'd ever say this, but aye. Now that I think about it, aye. Best place ye could possibly be in situations like this. What used ta keep prisoners in back in the old days keeps walkers out now" he muttered and looked at all the walking corpses that were piling up on the fences around them. Herschel looked at the two men.

"We're dangerously low on ammo. We'd run out before we make a dent."

Rick and Connor looked at him, and the Irishman shifted.

"Well aye, that's te problem" he murmured, but Rick didn't seem to think the same way.

" That's why we have to go in there."

They all looked at him in surprise. Rick nodded and went on.

"Hand to hand. After all we've been through, we can handle it, I know it."

No one seemed to fond of the idea, but their leader tried to encourage them with a smile. He turned his head to look at his son.

"These assholes don't stand a chance."

Carl smiled and Connor chuckled.

"Eh, better not swear around te boy."

He got the reaction he had aimed for. Everyone turned their head to look at him with a raised eyebrow.  
Connor chuckled even more.

"What, don't look at me like that. Do I look like I fuckin swear 'round te little brat?"'

The members of the group chuckled and grinned. Rick got up to get back to the gate to keep watch. Everyone started sorting their blankets and bags so they could get some sleep, just like their leader had demanded, but Connor wouldn't have any of that just yet. He tried to go after Rick because he needed to get something off his chest, but when he crossed paths with Daryl his friend wouldn't let him go without a remark.

"So what, now yah playing the cheery leprechaun again?" he murmured when Connor came closer. The Irishman stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Daryl snorted and put his poncho on the ground.

"10 minutes ago you went full on drama queen on me, and now yer back t'stupid jokes?"

Connor frowned.

"I didn't go drama queen on ye."

"Yeah, of course not."

He sat down on his poncho and got rid of his crossbow.   
His friend turned around to look where Rick was, only to see that he was talking to Lori anyway.  
Connor sighed and looked at Daryl again.

"It's just that ye know that I didn't really wanna come back t'this group in te first place."

"Yeah, but yah did come back with me."

Connor nodded and looked at Daryl.

"Aye. Aye..." he murmured and watch Lori and Rick who were obviously fighting.

"Tomorrow's gonna be a tough day" he said and looked at Daryl again, who was now lying on his poncho, head resting on his arms.

"Not the first time we're cleaning out a location."

The Irishman nodded.

"Aye. I'm gonna tell Rick about my little...thing. I think that could help."

Daryl raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"Yeah, cos they ain't giving yah enough strange looks already."

"So what. Just like I said, secrets just get people killed."

Both friends looked at each other for a moment until Daryl shifted and shook his head with a tired sigh.

"Whatever, yah freak. Knock yourself out. I need some sleep now, dumbass."

Connor snickered.

"Aye, ye better get some beauty sleep. You look fucking ugly."

He started walking again when Daryl suddenly grabbed him by his leg. Connor tripped, falling to the ground face down.

"Are ye fucking mental?!" he shouted and turned on his back to glare at Daryl, who started laughing.

Connor growled and kicked his friend's shoulder, then got back up again and wiped the dirt off his leather jacket.

"Are ye fuckin stupid? Man, I only just found this thing, I don't need it covered in dirt and all that shit."

Daryl chuckled even more.

"So who's the beauty queen now, huh? Jesus, look at yah, yer hair's all over the place man, and yah lost yer purse, too.."

Connor kicked him once more.

"Fuck you" he murmured and turned around to leave.

"Eh leprechaun."

The Irishman stopped walking and turned around again.

"What?"

"No need to tell them _everything_ bout this winter. Ain't none of their business."

* * *

He found Rick by the gate. Lori had made her way back to the group again, so it were just him and their leader. The former policeman turned his head to look at him when he heard him coming. Connor came to a halt right next to him and watched the walkers on the other side of the fence for a while. "Nice work today" Rick said after a moment and Connor nodded.

"Aye, ye weren't too bad either" he murmured and searched his pockets again. It was driving him insane that there were still no cigarettes in them.

_God, how much he needed a smoke._

The two men wouldn't speak for a while. They just kept watch until Connor let out a gentle sigh.

"Can I ask ye something, Rick?"

The man next to him nodded.

"Sure."

The Irishman turned his head and looked at him.

"Why did ye kill Shane? "

Rick just stared at him. Connor looked at the walkers again.

"'ve been meaning t'ask ye this fer a long time now. Considering I never got ta do it until now. What happened back there? I thought ye two were friends?"

It took Rick a while to answer, but much to Connor's surprise he would give him one.

"He tried to rape Lori. She told me."

The Irishman widened his eyes and looked back at the group to check on the policeman's wife.

"What? I didn't know.."

"That was before your time with us. But even with you around he..he changed. Even you must have noticed this. He killed Otis. He opened that barn and threatened all of us. Lori, Carl..He had no respect, not for Herschel, not for anyone. He ignored the group's decisions, my decisions, and he took that boy out and snapped his neck."

Connor just stood there and listened.

" When we were out there he tried to kill me. Lured me in the woods. Pointed his gun at me. Called me weak. I didn't have a choice. He had planned it through. He wanted to take my wife. My son. My baby. "

There was a long pause and Rick sighed.

"That wasn't my friend anymore. That wasn't the Shane I've known my whole life. I didn't kill my friend. I killed someone that put our whole group in danger just so he could get what he wanted. He was greedy, he was dangerous. I only took him out to keep you all safe."

He looked Connor in the eye.

"Don't think I liked it. Don't think it was easy."

"It's never easy" Connor murmured and put both his hands in his pockets, remembering all the times he had killed someone.

"I guess I kinda noticed it. But that it was _that_ bad...I had no idea. Guess yer right. He was some shady bastard.  
Thanks fer telling me" he said.

Rick nodded and they fell quiet again.

"Rumors are that you don't want to stay with us, is that true?" Rick asked after a while and made the Irishman snort.

"You can't keep secrets fram anyone here, can ye."

"I just want you to know that you don't have to. You've always been welcome.   
The thing I said last year, back when we were doing gun training, that's still true."

Connor chuckled and nodded.

"Thanks."

"You are a good man and a decent shooter, and I hate to say it flat out, but your blood is unique.  
It would be foolish to let you go" Rick went on and the other man nodded.

"Aye."

He scratched his left arm absently and sighed.

"But truth be told, that's exactly the reason why'm thinking about leaving. Listen..." he said and rubbed his eyes tiredly.  
  
He knew that what he was going to say would probably make everything worse, but he just didn't want to keep it to himself anymore.  
Rick turned his head to look at him.

" I gotta tell ye something. Daryl told me not t'tell ye people, but after everything that's happened today, when you wanted to go in here on a suicide mission on yer own... I just can't keep it t'myself any longer. Secrets'll just get you or others killed."

He took a deep breath and looked at the walkers in front of them.

"Walkers don't attack me" he admitted and wouldn't look at Rick.

"I don't know why. Maybe they think I'm already one af them. Because of the bite. Maybe they smell it somehow, maybe they sense it.  
Maybe it's cos I was dead fer a few seconds, hell, I don't know, but somehow they register me as part af them."

He turned his head to look at the group. He could see Daryl lying there, how he was watching them like a prick-eared dog.

"We knew about it pretty much right from te start. When we were hiding and making our way around the area.  
They'd all come after Daryl, but not after me. Never me. 's why I wanted ta go in here instead af you today."

"We already know" Rick said and Connor looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

The former policeman shrugged.

"It wasn't exactly hard to figure out. You think we didn't notice? Why do you think Carol is afraid of you? She saw it first.   
When we got corned in that warehouse a couple of days ago? After that we all saw it, too.  
We couldn't be sure of course, but we've been suspecting it ever since you came back."

The Irishman frowned.

"And ye wouldn't say anything? Or be creeped out?"

Rick snorted.

"Of course we're creeped out, but that doesn't change a thing."

"'bout what?"

"That you are part of our group and that you matter to us after everything you've done and sacrificed for us to keep us safe.  
No matter how creepy it is, we're glad that you and Daryl are back with us."

Rick grabbed his knife when a walker came to close to them and tried to attack him through the fence.  
He stabbed him in the eye and shoved him away.

"Besides, that's a skill that might come in handy tomorrow."


	6. 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole from Lord of the Rings. I stole from the Walking Dead comic. I regret nothing.
> 
>  **setting:** episode 1 " _Seed_ "

  
  
by julie9r

_**Five weeks after the farm incident...** _

The thing was perfect. Really. High windows, thick brick-walls, locked doors, which was exactly the point. The whole building was like a castle in complete _lockdown_. No way to enter. The heavy garage doors were shut, most of the windows blocked with thick iron bars.

"Fuck me, that place's perfect" Connor said as they looked at the building, trying to find a way in.

Daryl eyed his friend head to toe, and once again he couldn't hold back an amused snort. Connor looked absolutely ridiculous. The whole hitch-hiking, on the road living and scavenging kind of vibe didn't suit him. No matter how many times the Irishman tried to convince him that they weren't any different, that he had grown up far away from the big cities just like Daryl, no, the hunter still wouldn't buy that. Connor was a city boy. Being from Boston. Who had no clue how to live efficiently on the road. The fact that he was still carrying that heavy stupid rope around told him enough.

"Yeah, perfectly sealed. Ain't no way in" Daryl muttered as he walked around the corner, trying to find a back door.

"'s useless. Come on, let's get back to that gas station, didn't even have a look inside that one yet" he went on and tried to turn his back on the fire station, but Connor wouldn't let go.

"Sh sh sh. Hold te fuck up. There's an open window over there" the Irishman said and pointed at the large open window just underneath the flat roof.

Daryl looked up and frowned.

"Yeah, and how are we supposed t'get up there? That's two stories, dumbass. And even if we did get up there, how are we supposed to get inside? Let's go" the hunter said and tried to leave again, but Connor wouldn't let him.

"Nah, just think about it. Te place is locked up fer good, and maybe there's some supplies in there. They used places like this as temporary evac stations, didn't they? Besides, it's a fire station. Maybe some cops were in there as well. There could be ammo, guns, batteries, whatever we need, man. Don't look like looters got in there yet."

"Yeah exactly, no one got in there to kill any geeks. God knows how many are in there. 's a waste of time. Let's try the gas station and move on" Daryl said and started walking, hoping his friend would follow him this way, but once again Connor was incredibly stubborn.

"I can fit through there" he heard the Irishman say and turned around with an angry frown.

It was true that his friend had become rather skinny ever since the infection. He had lost a lot of weight shortly after the bite, and the fact that they hardly ever found supplies these days and that it was almost getting too cold for hunting didn't exactly help either. They needed to find food and shelter, and they needed to save their energy even more. Thinking that they could get inside an abandoned fire station without really knowing what was waiting inside was just retarded and plain dangerous.

"Don't be stupid. Yah fat ass ain't gonna fit through there" the hunter tried to reason with his friend, although they both knew that it was a lie.

The window was big enough, and Connor would have no problem getting inside through there.  
And now his friend was grinning. It was getting worse and worse again.

"I told ye the rope would come in handy" the blonde said and grabbed the thing which had been strapped around his shoulder for days now.

"Ye just gotta believe" the Irishman went on and then went back to search the surrounding area for something useful so he could throw the rope at the window and use it to get up the wall.

"Don't be stupid, yah ain't going in there" Daryl protested when he saw how Connor brought an old plank from one of the old trash cans behind the building.

"I ain't gonna go in there, just gonna climb up there and have a look inside" the older of the two muttered as he wrapped one end of the rope around the plank and made a couple of knots.

"That's retarded, yer shoulder and arm ain't even healed yet you dumbass!" the hunter went on and tried to grab the plank, but Connor kept it out of his reach.

Daryl growled because he knew this behavior too well, knew Connor too well by now. His friend had a plan, and he thought that it would work.  
He knew what this meant. There was no stopping the Irishman now, no matter how dangerous or stupid it really was.

"Ain't she adorable when she's worried about me" the other said with a grin and then aimed his construction at the window.

It took him three times until the plank finally got stuck at a weird angle, leaving the rope hanging down the brick wall. Connor pulled a couple of times to make sure that it was tight enough to carry his weight, then he started to climb up the wall, using the rope to pull himself up.  
  
Daryl watched his friend with an angry frown and folded his arms. As stupid as the whole thing really was, Connor was pretty agile and smart. He gave him that. The hunter shook his head right after the thought and eyed their surroundings, searching for any possible threats. Smartness aside, the Irishman was freaking nuts.

"You're a complete nutter, yah know that?" he growled and heard Connor chuckle.

"Yeah yeah, Ma" his friend grunted and finally reached the window.

"Ah jesus, hold on a sec" he muttered and stuck his head inside, trying to make out any movement.

"Yah see anything?"

"Pretty comfy in here, actually" he heard the echo of Connor's voice and stepped closer.

He didn't like the angle his friend was hanging in, half inside the building, half outside. The Irishman pulled himself up even more until he was somewhat sitting on the window frame, and whilst using his one hand to keep his balance he used the other one to search his pea coat for a flash light. He shined the device inside and searched the interior until a frown crossed his face and Daryl got nervous.

"What? Come on now, yah had your fun. Let's get outta here."

"Just.."

Connor suddenly swung his legs around until they were both hanging inside the building, which Daryl didn't like at all.

When the blonde then pulled up the rope and threw it over to the other side the hunter got even more nervous.

"Hey. You ain't..."

But Connor had already disappeared inside the building.

"Leprechaun!" Daryl yelled and stepped closer to the wall, trying to climb up and reach the window.

He could hear grunts and footsteps inside the building, and soon more noises of what sounded like fight going on came through.

"Hey! You can't..I told you not to go in there! Leprechaun!" the hunter shouted at the wall and listened, and the noise was actually moving away from him.

Daryl cursed and made his way around the corner, nearly running into a walker while doing so.

"Jesus.. Connor!" he yelled and killed the walker with a stab to his neck.

He started running again until he reached the front of the building, hoping to find another entrance.  
But of course. Everything was locked up tight. And he could still hear Connor fighting with someone in there.

"Get your ass outta there!" the hunter yelled and kicked the garage door hard, making more noise than intended.

He could see a whole bunch of walkers down the street now, and he would be a liar if he told anyone that he wasn't freaked out. He didn't know what was going on in there, what was happening to his friend, if there were walkers in there, if he was bit again, if...  
  
He turned his head when he heard how a door was opened to his right. A moment later Connor stepped outside, a wide grin on his face. There was some blood on his clothes and in his hair, but other than that he looked just fine.

"Well, what are ye waiting fer? Move yer fat ass in here, then! Home sweet home, Darylena" Connor announced and the grin on his face got even wider, and this made Daryl even more furious. Without really thinking it through he darted forward and slammed his friend against the wall with an angry snarl.

"Do that again and I'll kill you, you bastard."

* * *

_**now...** _

They could hear them groaning and moaning on the other side of the fence, and that didn't exactly make it any easier for them. The group was well aware of the countless zombified prisoners on the other side of the gate. The fact that they only had knives and machetes to protect themselves made them feel even more nervous. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl and Connor were waiting for Rick to open the gate they had locked just yesterday.  
  
They could see a few walkers stumbling in their direction, and the group got their weapons ready. Rick, Glenn and Maggie had the machetes and T-Dog a crowbar. Daryl and Connor were the ones with the knives, which was why they would go in last. The Irishman suddenly smirked and nudged his friend's shoulder. Daryl turned his head to look at him with a frown.

"Wanna bet that I can kill more af those fuckers than you lamebrain?"

The hunter raised an eyebrow.

"This ain't some sorta game, dumbass."

Connor snorted and grabbed his knife tight.

"Yer just saying that cos you know 'm right."

Daryl snorted as well.

"Yah wish."

"Ready?" Herschel asked and they looked at him. Rick nodded and opened the gate.

They tried to stay together, forming a circle with everyone back to back. T-Dog was the first to kill a walker, which had been standing right by the gate. The others followed him inside and Herschel closed the door shut behind them. He gave Connor a nod and the Irishman did the same. Just a second ago he had been joking around, if only just to keep himself and his friend calm.  
  
Now that the gate was closed and they were trapped inside with countless walkers he had to realize that everything was real, that everything was dangerous and not a game at all. Maggie and Glenn were the next to kill walkers, and when one of them would come too close to them Rick called out for Daryl. The hunter nodded and stepped forward to stab the former prisoner right in the head. The undead let out a final gasp, then he fell to the ground. Daryl stepped back so the walker wouldn't fall on top of him and ran right into Connor. He turned his head to glare at him, then a smirk broke through.

"One" he counted and the Irishman snorted.

"And yer calling that an achievement, Legolas?"

"Daryl, Connor! Stay with the group, don't break ranks!" Rick yelled and they both hurried after the group.

They all resumed their former position, with Glenn being back to back with Maggie, T-Dog being back to back with Rick and Connor and Daryl having each other's back. They made their way around the concrete prison yard, taking out walkers and staying together. They could hear the remaining members of the group, Beth, Lori, Carol, Carl and Herschel, yelling at the walkers from the other side of the fence, taking them out with their own sticks and pipes whenever they got too close.  
  
Especially Connor and Daryl wouldn't slow down, now that the hunter had given in to the competition. More and more walkers dropped to the ground, and the stench of rotting flesh and blood and smashed brains was getting unbearable. The small group got used to it, the killing, the smell, and took out one walker after another. Connor and Daryl ran into each other once more and the Irishman chuckled when their backs connected.

"Count?"

"Eight."

Connor killed another walker with a stab to his throat.

"Bullshit" he grunted as he kicked it so it wouldn't fall on top of him. Daryl chuckled and kept moving.

"Told yah."

"Don't break rank!" they heard Rick yell once more and turned their head to see what was going on.

They could see that T-Dog had left the group to get a riot shield which was lying on the ground.

"We might need that!" he yelled and tried to get it. One of the walkers came dangerously close to him.

"T!" Rick yelled, but it was Connor who reacted.

He darted forward and stabbed the undead in the back of his head. T-Dog turned around in surprise, holding the shield in his hand.

"Ye gotta watch yer back, buddy" Connor murmured and got back to the rest of the group.

They had almost reached the other side of the yard, and no walker was to be seen anymore.

"Almost there!" Rick shouted as they headed for the door to the first cell block. Everyone kept moving slowly and carefully.

"Nine" Connor murmured when he could feel that Daryl was right behind him. The hunter snorted.

"Liar."

"Stay together" Rick demanded when they reached the wall with the door.

He placed a hand on it and pushed. The door opened with a loud creak, but no walker would come out.  
When their leader started walking again to have a look around the corner he gasped and backed off all of the sudden.  
He pushed T-Dog back and pressed them against the wall.

"Shit" he gasped and looked at the group.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow to watch their back. Connor moved forward to get a better view. He could see another three dozen walkers staggering around the small fenced-in area between cell blocks C and D. A few turned their heads and glared at him with a growl, but none of them would stagger in his direction and attack.

"Fuck,'s gotta be another twenty, thirty walkers" he whispered and looked at the group.

"Stay back" Rick hissed and Connor did as he was told.

They could see how a few walkers in riot suits came staggering towards them from behind the dumpsters.  
The group looked at them in surprise.

"Ye gotta be fucking kidding me, what's that? Did they level up?" Connor said and Daryl took aim.

They startled when another two walkers with riot suits came around the corner right next to them.

"I got it" Daryl murmured and aimed for one of their heads. The arrow bounced off the helmet with a loud _tschonk._ The walker kept coming. For a moment the group stared at the walker, completely dumbfounded. They had never come across a walker that had been geared up like this before. As soon as the surprise had faded Connor suddenly couldn't hold back a loud snort. He turned his head to look at his friend and shook his head with a chuckle.

"Yer so fucking stupid" he murmured and stabbed another prisoner when he came around the corner.

Daryl growled and threw his crossbow over his shoulder to get his knife instead.

"Shut up" he murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed because his crossbow didn't work for the first time. T-Dog, Maggie and Rick started attacking the riot suit walkers with their machetes and the shield whereas Glenn, Daryl and Connor killed the other remaining walkers. Daryl hit a female walker with his crossbow and knocked her off her feet. When she tried to get back up again the hunter grabbed her by her hair and stabbed her in the eye. Connor had just put another walker down himself when he saw her lying on the ground. He pointed at her.

"That's a fucking civilian, only counts half."

"Bullshit!" Daryl yelled as he stabbed another walker.

"Eleven!"

"Thirteen!" the Irishman countered. They bumped into each other again and killed another two walkers at the same time.

"Yer a lying bastard!" the hunter went on and Connor wanted to answer, but when they heard Maggie yell they both turned their head in surprise. They could see how Herschel's daughter was still fighting a riot suit walker. The two men were on their way to help her when she suddenly grabbed the walker by his helmet, pushed his chin up and stabbed his neck. The walker let out a gurgling growl and fell down to the ground with a last twitch. Maggie turned around and looked at them in surprise. She was completely out of breath.

" See that?!" she exclaimed and the two men just stared at her.

_Had a woman really just killed an armored walker with just a knife whereas they had been taking out normal walkers together?_

"Riot suits count twice" Connor stated and looked at Daryl for a moment.

The hunter turned around and grabbed one of the remaining armored walkers by his helmet. He stabbed the back of his neck.

"Fourteen" he growled and glared at Connor. The Irishman grinned mischievously.

"Connor! Daryl!" Rick, who had made his way to the small inner fence, yelled as he tried to kill another prison suit walker.

"We've gotta close that gate!" he shouted and pointed at the open gate.

They could see the entire mob of walkers heading for the entrance by now. For a moment Connor just watched them. He counted about thirty prisoners and civilians by that fence, and he could make out an open door that led inside the prison behind them. He was pretty sure that if they didn't close that door instead of the gate more and more walkers would just keep coming out of the building.  
  
Another walker passed him and Connor startled when the undead bumped right into him. For a moment they were staring right at each other, the Irishman's blue eyes widened in surprise, the walkers dead grey eyes cloudy and unfocused. The walker breathed out tiredly and wouldn't stop staring at Connor. The Irishman groaned because the undead's foul bad breath hit him like a punch in the face. He buried his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm and gasped.  
  
The walker looked at him for a little while longer, then he turned his head and kept walking. The undead was heading for Glenn now, who stabbed him with his machete a second later. Rick was still yelling and shouting as he and Daryl tried to shut the gate. Connor looked at the walker Glenn had just killed, then he grabbed his knife.

"I've got a better idea" he murmured and started walking. He went straight for the gate. Daryl turned around and glared at him.

"It's about time yah move your ass!" he yelled and kicked another walker away.

Connor snorted and stopped walking for a moment. He took a deep breath and watched the walkers that were coming closer and closer.  
Daryl and Rick were still trying to get the gate shut. The hunter turned his head to look at his friend again.

"What the hell are yah waiting for! Help us with this fucking gate!" he grunted, but Connor ignored him.

"Yer gotta lock it tight so they can't get out. I got an idea" he said and looked at Rick instead.

Their leader seemed confused for a moment, but when Connor gave him a slight nod he seemed to get it.  
Rick nodded and concentrated on the gate again.

"What the hell are yah talkin 'bout?! Move!"

Daryl reached out for Connor to grab him by his shoulder and pull him towards the gate, but the Irishman moved out of his way.  
A second later he started running.

"What the hell?!What the fuck are yah doing?!" Daryl yelled and watched his friend run inside the fenced-in area they were trying to shut down.

The hunter let go off the gate and wanted to run after him, but Rick grabbed him by his shirt.

"No! I said don't break rank! You're gonna get us all killed!"

Daryl fought him off and tried to run after Connor once more. The walkers were dangerously close by now.  
The Irishman had disappeared somewhere behind them.

"Let me go! Leprechaun! Get your fucking ass back here!" he spat and searched the yard in horror.

Rick suddenly pulled him back and slammed the gate shut right in front of him. He put the iron chain they had brought with them on it and stepped back. In a matter of seconds walkers upon walkers were piling up on the fence. The hunter watched them in horror, trying to make his friend out behind or between them.

"Connor?!" he yelled and waited for an answer. All he could hear was the loud growling of the walkers.

"Connor!" he yelled once more and tried to get closer.

The fence started shaking even more. Rick placed a hand on his shoulder to pull him back again. Daryl turned around and shoved him with a growl.

"Did yah really just lock him in there?!" he spat and let go off their leader.

He put his hands on his hips and started walking in circles. Daryl wouldn't stop glaring at Rick, who hadn't said anything so far and was busy stabbing another walker on the ground. When he finally looked at him the hunter pointed at the fence.

"We gotta open this gate. Right now!" he yelled and Rick just looked at him.

"No we won't."

Daryl glared at him.

"What?"

The former policeman turned around started walking again.

"He's gonna be fine."

Daryl went after him.

"Yah mean fine like Merle when yah cuffed him t'this roof back in Atlanta?! What is it with yah always locking people away?!"

Rick stopped walking and turned around to point at the walkers.

"No, I mean he's gonna be _fine_."

The hunter frowned and turned his head to see what the other man was pointing at. For a while he couldn't hear or see anything, then he heard the loud creaking of a steel door. A moment later they could hear other strange noises coming from the other side of the wall, noises that didn't quite fit the moans of the walkers and the shaking of the fence. T-Dog, Glenn and Maggie came to join them. "What the hell?" T-Dog murmured when they could see and hear how more and more walkers dropped to the ground. It went on like this for several minutes until they could finally make out the missing member of their group.

Connor was right in the middle of the crowd, stabbing one walker after another without missing a heartbeat. It was strangely grotesque to see how he took them all out without them attacking him. They would either ignore the Irishman completely or watch him with weary eyes, most of them wouldn't even see him coming.  
  
Quite an amount of walkers was still interested in the rest of the group, shaking the fence and trying to reach out for them. It was so surreal that the group didn't move at all for a while, they just stood there and watched. Connor had cleared about three quarters of the small yard when he needed a break. He was completely out of breath and turned around to look at the group.

"Little fucking help here?!" he panted and they finally moved.

T-Dog, Glenn and Maggie approached the gate and started stabbing the walkers through the holes in the fence. Daryl was the last to join them. He just watched Connor take another couple of walkers out. He had been relieved at first when he had seen him, that he was still alive and fighting. Of course he had been relieved, that guy was practically his brother. But now he was just furious. Incredibly furious. With Rick. With Connor.  
  
For just a second he had been so freaked out that even now he couldn't really calm down. Because he had thought that he had lost his best friend. _Again_. Because he had thought that he had lost him just like Merle. Trapped with walkers. Because of some stupid chains. And he was dead furious because Connor had promised he would never do that again after what had happened at the fire station half a year ago. But here that bastard was, risking his life and running right at walkers _again_.

Daryl growled and approached the fence to stab the walkers as well. He just needed to get rid of his anger and hatred, which was why he stabbed the walkers in a lot more brutal way than usual. After several minutes of just moving and stabbing the last walker fell to the ground. They saw that Connor had managed to close the massive door on the opposite wall. The group could hear more walkers knocking on the other side, but there were no more walking dead outside.  
  
They had done it. The prison yard was clear.  
  
Connor moved towards the gate and leaned against it for a moment to catch breath. He was panting heavily because of the exhaustion from the fight, but he was also chuckling quietly. It took him a while to calm down, and he used the time to get rid of his jacket and put it around his waist. The Irishman wiped the blood off his face and took a deep breath, then he place both his hands on the gate and grinned at Rick, who was standing opposite him.

"Well, that was a nice plan, wasn't it? Very Jason Bourne that was. Yer right, that came in pretty handy."

Rick opened the gate for him and Connor stepped out.

"Nice work" he said and put a hand on the Irishman's shoulder to give it a squeeze.

"Aye, yer welcome."

Connor approached Daryl with a grin on his face.

"32" he announced triumphantly and his friend just glared at him. The Irishman chuckled and nudged his shoulder.

"What do ye say ta that, Mr twenty-something?"

Daryl glared at him for a little while longer, then he punched him right in the face.  
Connor groaned and staggered backwards, holding his left cheek in surprise and pain.

"Ow! Are ye fucking crazy? You fucking asshole!"

His friend wouldn't stop staring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Knock it off you two, we need to move" Rick said and started walking.  
  
Maggie, T-Dog and Glenn followed him reluctantly. Connor groaned and massaged his aching jaw.

"Jesus" he murmured and eyed Daryl angrily.  
  
His friend wouldn't say or do anything, he just turned around and followed the group with an angry snort.


	7. Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 1 " _Seed_ "

_**St. Patrick's Day, 1997** _

Connor was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. The blonde rubbed his left eye with a giggle and turned his head to look at his twin, who was laughing just as hard. Murphy buried his face in the crook of his arm, which he was resting on the bar counter. The older of the two brothers laughed even more at the sight and patted twin's back.

"I swear ta fucking god, she was as dumb as a fuckin brick. She seriously believed me when I said that those tongues were bull cocks."

The whole group of friends started laughing again, and Connor obviously enjoyed being at the center of attention. Murphy looked up and grinned and laughed with his brother, since he already knew what was coming next. Connor rubbed his nose and wouldn't stop giggling. He then wrapped an arm around Billy, one of their friends who was standing right next to him.

"So she was like 'Seriously? Have you ever tasted them? What do bull cocks taste like?'"

The whole group howled with laughter and the blonde twin raised his hand to signalize that he wasn't finished yet.

"Sh sh sh. Wait fer it. So I wrap an arm around her shoulder like this and I proceed ta show her around and I'm like 'Well sweet Sharleen, I don't know, but I'm sure m'brother can help ye. He's quite the expert there, I bet he can show ye what bull cocks taste like if ye need any further private lessons."

The group of friends already wanted to laugh again, but Connor hushed them once more.  
Murphy wouldn't stop laughing though, as he lunged out to hit his brother, face now burning red.

"Fuck ye!" he exclaimed but his twin ignored him and went on with his story.

"And she goes, in all honesty!, she goes 'oh that's great! I like cooking and trying out new recipes! I can bring herbs from my balcony!"

And once again the whole pub was howling with laughter and Connor wouldn't leave Murphy be just yet.

"And so it came ta pass that my dear brother finally got laid over a bunch of cow tongues."

"Shut up!" Murphy protested and punched his brother's arm multiple times, but he was still laughing just as hard as all the others.

The blonde twin chuckled and then started ruffling his younger half's hair, because he knew that Murphy hated that just as much.  
The dark-haired MacManus was just about to punch his brother again when someone spoke up.

"Hey, MacManus!" they heard a friend yell and automatically turned their heads at the same time.

A flash blinded both twins, making them curse and blink multiple times.

"Jesus, Liam!"

"Fuckin hell ye idiot!"

They both complained and the man with the camera chuckled. Connor got up from his stool and grabbed his Guinness.

"No no no, hold te fuck up. Let's take a proper pic, come on" the older MacManus demanded and wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder.

Murphy got up as well and started hopping up and down while clapping with his hands.  
It was obvious that he was very drunk, and that amused Connor even more.

"Come on brother, smile" he muttered and patted his twin's shoulder, and Murphy finally stopped moving about and wrapped an arm around Connor's waist with a grin.

The blonde started toasting Liam with his pint of Guinness and both brothers posed for the upcoming picture.

"Whay! Say bull cocks!" Murphy yelled and raised his glass as well.

Seconds after the flash blinded their eyes they started laughing again and nearly fell over, spilling Connor's beer all over the place.

* * *

Connor massaged his aching cheek and jaw and followed the group with a growl. Daryl wouldn't wait for him or talk to him, he was walking right next to Maggie instead. The Irishman shook his head. "Fucker" he murmured and could taste some blood in his mouth. He had bit his tongue when Daryl had punched him. Glenn was on his way back to the others when Rick called out. "Stop" he demanded and Glenn turned around to look at them. Their leader scanned their surroundings for a moment.

"Well, it looks secure" Glenn murmured and Connor turned around to have a look himself.

He could see all the dead bodies on the ground. None of them were moving.  
He nodded and put his hands on his hips.

"Aye. Always went fer the head."

"Nothing will lead to that courtyard over there. And that's a civilian" Daryl said and pointed at the female walker he had stabbed earlier.

"So the interior could be overrun by walkers from outside the prison" T-Dog concluded and leaned against the wall.  
  
Connor rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Oh, Jesus.."

 _It was going to be a_ _**long** _ _day._

"Well, if there's walls down, what are we gonna do? We can't rebuild this whole place" Glenn said and looked at Rick.

"We can't risk a blind spot. We have to push in" their leader said and started walking.

The entrance to the cell block wasn't too far away. They made their way up the stairs and Connor moved his fingers over the fences to their left and right. He remembered his time in prison with Murphy, how much they had hated all the bars and fences and locks. He had been excited when they had found the prison yesterday, simply because they would be protected from the walkers behind those fences.  
  
He had been inside for only half an hour now and he already hated it again. Daryl placed himself in front of Rick so he could be the one to open the bloodstained door. "Well doesn't that look inviting" Connor murmured with a sigh and placed himself right next to his friend. He looked at Daryl, but when their glances met the younger rewarded him with an angry glare. _Right. So he was still pissed._ The Irishman rolled his eyes and positioned himself in case a walker was right behind the door. Daryl pushed it open.

It was pitch black inside and their steps echoed through the dark halls. Much to their surprise the smell wasn't too bad, which was a good sign. All they could smell was the stench of rotting wet furniture and paint. Rick moved in front of Connor and Daryl. Glenn closed the door in the meantime. They made their way down the small flight of stairs in front of them.  
  
The hall that had once been the dining hall of cell block C was nothing but a dimly lit mess now. They could see papers, towels and clothes lying all over the ground, as if there had been some serious rioting going on. They could see a guard tower right in front of them, and there was blood on the window. The whole group scattered around the hall, and it was Connor who made his way up the tower to check for walkers.

When he reached the very top of the stairs the Irishman turned around to give the waiting group a nod. He took a deep breath and entered the tower, only to find the body of a guard sitting on the chair, with his head thrown back. There was blood on the window right behind him, so Connor figured that he had been shot in the head. He poked him with his knife just to make sure.  
  
"Clear" he said and relaxed. He searched the tower for anything useful and froze when he saw a bunch of keys, which were attached to the guard's belt. Connor eyed the undead once more, then he grabbed them. "Well, today's christmas" he murmured and showed Rick the keys through the window. Their leader smiled and nodded approvingly. Connor made his way back down the stairs and threw them at the policeman so he could open the door to the section with the prison cells. The Irishman positioned himself next to Daryl.

"Thanks fer the punch by the way" he growled and Daryl glared at him.

Connor looked back at him for a while and shook his head with a snort.

"Oh come on now, don't give me that shit."

"Shut up, there could be walkers everywhere."

"So what, we can take them on."

"Yeah sure, how about we just lock you up with them, hope for the best and rely on fucking assumptions."

The Irishman frowned.

"Assumptions? There ain't no fucking assumptions, it obviously worked. It always works.  
Don't get yer panties in a bunch you whiny baby."

Daryl shoved him hard.

"Don't you.."

"Hey!" Rick called out and Daryl let go with a growl. Their leader was standing next to the door he had just opened and pointed at them. "Pull yourselves together!" he hissed and the hunter moved to come closer. He knew that their leader was right, and he most certainly didn't want to talk to Connor right now. He entered the section first, with his crossbow in his hands so he could shoot any possible walkers right away.  
  
They had heard the distant growls of walkers every once in a while, so he was sure that there were some inside the cells. Connor followed him right after and went straight for the cells to check them. Rick, T-Dog, Maggie and Glenn were right behind them. Once again the whole hall was a complete mess, but what surprised them the most was that they could hardly see any blood or guts or body parts lying around. There were a few bodies inside the cells, but each of them had been shot in the head.

Connor reached the very end of the section and checked the door on the other side. It was locked tight. He sighed and turned around to let his gaze wander. The block wasn't too big, the Hoag had been a lot bigger. He looked up at the ceiling and checked the windows to see if there were any holes or broken walls, but it looked like the building was intact, which was a big bonus.  
  
When he saw how Daryl made his way up the stairs to the upper cells he decided to follow and help him, despite their current dispute. This was the one thing they were good at. No matter how much they hated each other sometimes, when it came down to this they were still a good team, which was why they were still alive after all.

Most of the upper cells were clear, apart from a few bodies. A loud bang to their right startled them both. Connor and Daryl looked at each other. The Irishman nodded and pointed at a cell to their right. The hunter nodded as well and placed an arrow in his crossbow. Connor gave him signs to let him know that he was going to go first and grabbed his knife, and with a final nod they both started walking.  
  
When they reached one of the cells that were further up front they could see how two pairs arms were fighting thin air through two of the cell doors. Two prisoners, who had obviously died and turned in their prison cells, were still locked up behind bars. "Jesus" Connor murmured and just looked at them for a moment. He didn't really know how long they had been in there, but if Rick was right and the prison had fallen early then it would mean that they had been locked up for almost a year. He sighed and shook his head.

"Looks like you've served yer sentence, buddy" he said and stabbed the walker in the head. Daryl did the same with the walker in the cell next to him.

The Irishman wiped the blood off his blade and turned around to look at the rest of the group downstairs.

"Everything's clear" he said and put his knife away. Rick nodded.

"Alright. Let's get the bodies out of here, we're gonna burn them tomorrow. Looks like this part of the prison is clear for now. We'll move the others in here. Rest for a bit. Tomorrow we're going to look for the cafeteria, infirmary and commissary. Glenn, Maggie, T, you're going back outside, get the others and our things. Connor, Daryl, you're gonna help me with the bodies."

Connor nodded and let his gaze wander once more.

"Home sweet home" he murmured and turned around to face Daryl.  
His friend just glared at him again, which made the Irishman snort.

"Wow, don't look at me like that, Darylena. What do ye wanna do with that look, kill me?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him and didn't say anything for a while. Then he shook his head and walked past him.

"Fuck you" he growled and bumped into Connor on purpose.

* * *

Once Rick had unlocked all the prison cells Daryl and Connor got started on moving the bodies. They were quiet at first, avoiding both eye and body contact. They were cleaning out the cells upstairs when Connor had enough. They were carrying another body out of a cell and Rick had just left the cell block when the Irishman finally looked at Daryl and sighed.

"Oh come on now, stop it with yer fucking moping. Just because you lost this competition. Don't be a sore loser, ye idiot."

Daryl looked up and glared at his friend.

"Besides, I was just getting ye started on it t'make it easier fer us for christ's fucking sakes" Connor went on and they threw the body over the railing. Daryl went straight for the next cell to get the next body. His friend followed him with an angry growl. The hunter knew all to well that it was driving Connor crazy when no one was talking to him, when _he_ wasn't talking to him, which was why he was doing it in the first place. He wanted his friend to suffer, simply because a simple punch in his face hadn't been punishment enough for what he had done.

It wasn't even the fact that he had almost had a heart attack when Connor had run off and fought all these walkers. It certainly wasn't the first time his friend had scared the shit out of him, and he hated to be scared. More than anything. No, it was the fact that Connor had done it so easily, had sacrificed himself as if it was the easiest thing in the world, like it was still so easy for him to get himself hurt, even worse, killed.  
  
Even after Daryl had asked him to never do that shit again. But now that his friend got an audience again it felt like the Irishman was trying anything to impress people with whatever was going on with him because of that bite. They carried the body to the railing again, and Connor wouldn't stop glaring at Daryl, he was still waiting for an answer after all. They threw the body over the railing and the blonde leaned against the wall for a moment. Daryl turned around to leave again, but then changed his mind and turned on his heels to glare at the Irishman.

"Yah really think this is about yer fucking competition?"

Connor folded his arms and snorted.

"Well, it obviously is. I tell ye how many walkers I killed and you punch me in the face fer it. Just admit it, you can't fucking lose. Yer all 'oh look at me, I'm Daryl fucking Dixon with my crossbow, I'm so tough, I can hunt and track and I've got my motorbike, I'm so fucking tough'. And as soon as someone's better than you, and damn right I was fucking better than you, then ye lose yer shit and go all punching bag on me again."

Daryl frowned.

"I ain't some giant five year old like you dumbass. And I certainly ain't crying over some pathetic competition I lost."

He turned around to get the next body.

"Then what te fuck's yer problem, man?!" Connor spat and glared at his friend's back.

Daryl turned around and looked at him for a while, then he made his way back to him again.

"I am done with yer suicidal bullshit all the time. You promised you wouldn't do that shit again!"

Connor frowned.

"Suicidal? Are ye stupid?"

"So what do you call this then, huh? Letting yerself get locked up with three dozen flesh eating dead freaks is perfectly sane t'yah?!"

The Irishman snorted.

"Well someone had ta fucking do it, they were all coming outta this building, and someone had ta lock it up.  
And it worked last time I did it, didn't it? And since they ain't interested in.."

"You don't know that for sure!" Daryl spat and shoved his friend.  
"Yer just assuming this shit, man. And running in there and relying on that just because it worked once is fucking stupid!"

"It obviously fucking works no matter how many times I do it! I' got bit over half a year ago, Daryl! And they never attacked me again ever since. Fuckin hell, some walker literally bumped inta me and just looked at me and went away, we were face t'face for a whole minute right before I ran in there!"

"So what, yah some sorta doctor now, you dumb fuck? You know for sure that they're never gonna attack yah again?"

"Well do ye know fer sure that they're gonna attack me again? Same fucking thing! And even if they do, who cares?"

"I fucking care, you asshole!" Daryl yelled and clenched his fist.

He was just about to punch his friend in his face again, but when he saw how Connor tensed he relaxed his hand.

"It's just cos they've never seen it, huh? You finally got your stupid audience back. Is this really how you thank us, thank me for everything I've done for yah? By throwing yerself at every possible danger you can find just so you can be some stupid show-off with your immunity crap?"

"Fucking aye, because I saved yer asses out there. No one would've been able ta do this shit. I was just helping and protecting you people, this isn't about me running in there showing off or hoping t'get myself killed. If I wanted that I'd just put a bullet t'my head."

"Yeah, and I'm supposed t'believe you. Cos you never tried to get yerself killed before."

Connor glared at him.

"This was months ago, don't get started on that shit again."

"Well, I obviously gotta, cos yer still doing the same stupid mistakes over and over again. Because you always run around like a headless chicken with yer stupid ideas and plans that get people killed and that end with you getting bit. Why do yah think they managed t'turn yah into such a freak, huh? Because of your stupidity!"

As soon as Daryl had spoken it out he regretted it instantly. Connor just looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Daryl thought that his friend was about to punch him in his face for that, but Connor just walked past him. "Let's get those things outta here. We ain't got all day" he growled and disappeared inside a cell.

* * *

They were throwing another body down so T-Dog could carry it outside when the other remaining members of the group came in.  
Daryl and Connor had fallen quiet again, especially now that there were others with them.

"What do you think?" they heard Rick, who made his way down the stairs, ask and looked down to see what was going on.

"Home sweet home" Glenn said and made Connor chuckle.

"My words, boy" he murmured and checked all the remaining prison cells to see if they had forgotten any bodies.

"It's secure?" Carol asked and Rick nodded.

"This cell block is."

Connor made his way down the stairs as well so he could help the others with their bags.  
He took some blankets from Lori and smiled at her.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded and handed him the blankets.

"Is it really secure?"

The Irishman nodded and took a look around.

"Aye. Triple-checked it. Don't worry. We're gonna keep ye safe."

"What about the rest of the prison?" Herschel asked and Rick and Connor looked at him.

"In the morning we'll find the cafeteria and the infirmary" he explained and the Irishman nodded.

"Aye, places like this should be well stocked with food and medical supplies."

"We'll sleep in the cells?" Beth asked and they nodded once more.

"Don't worry. They're quite comfy. Way safer and better than sleeping outside with no real cover.  
And ye get t'pick. Isn't that some great news" Connor said and looked at Rick who nodded.

"I found keys on some guards. Connor has a set, too."

"I ain't sleeping in no cage" they heard Daryl growl upstairs and looked up. "I'll take the perch" the hunter went on and started walking to get his things ready. Everyone started moving to get their cells and Connor chuckled softly. Truth be told, after being locked up in a prison before all this had started he didn't exactly fancy sleeping in a cell either, but at the same time he really missed sleeping in a real bed. Not that you could call the hard and uncomfortable prison bunk beds real beds.

He helped Lori and Carol to get their stuff upstairs, and once he had made sure everything was alright he decided to choose his own cell. He picked one not too far away from them and close to the stairs, just so he could be right there in case of emergencies. For a moment he just stood there and eyed his cell. He could see some blood on the walls and it was dirty as hell, but he had seen a whole lot worse during the past year.  
  
The Irishman sighed and put his bag on the table to get his things out. He still couldn't stop thinking about what Daryl had told him. _Your stupid plans that get people killed and that end with you getting bitten._ He sighed and scratched his arm again. Connor knew that his friend had only said this because he had been angry, and even he had to admit that the hunter was right. He knew that his plans were stupid and dangerous. He knew how much trouble they had caused the last couple of years.

Connor let go off his arm and searched his bag until he found the small and dirty piece of paper. Even after all these months he still had a hard time looking at it. The Irishman sighed and just stared at the photo in his hands. There he was, his twin brother, grinning at him, his arm wrapped around his waist. Connor was glad he still had the photo, no matter how much it hurt.  
  
He had seen and been through so much that sometimes he had almost forgotten what his brother looked like. What his voice had sounded like, his accent, his laugh. What he had smelled like, what he had felt like. Funny how something as gloomy and gray as this prison could remind him of his brother. Because the last time he had been inside a prison had been with Murphy.  
  
Connor looked at the bunk bed to his right. He was pretty sure that if his twin were there with him then they would have been fighting over who would get to sleep on top by now. _Dear god, did he miss his brother..._

"Looks like yer finally back t'where you belong."

Connor turned around and saw Daryl standing there by the entrance to his cell.  
He snorted and turned around again to get his bed ready.

"Cells sure look better than ours at te Hoag."

Daryl frowned.

"Ours?"

Connor froze and sighed.

"Right. I forgot. Sorry" he murmured and went on without looking at Daryl.

They were quiet for a while and the hunter just watched his friend moving around for a moment.

"Hey" he finally said and Connor looked at him.

"Sorry 'bout what I said earlier."

The Irishman shrugged.

"Well, maybe you were right 'bout a few things there. Besides, we were all a bit on edge cos of all the walkers, aye. No hard feelings.  
But still, next time ye punch me in the face be prepared t'get yer ass kicked in return."

Daryl snorted.

"Just don't do any of that insane bullshit again and I don't have t'punch some sanity into yah."

The Irishman frowned.

"So what, are ye my mother now?"

"Fuck you, someone's gotta say it."

"Yeah, whatever, Ma."

They fell quiet once again but Daryl wouldn't just leave yet. He wanted to speak it out, but at the same time he just didn't have the guts and still didn't want his friend to know. _I really care about you asshole, please don't ever do that again,_ he thought but would not dare speaking it out, so he just stood there and watched, completely lost in thoughts. Connor would look at him every once in a while, confused because his friend was still there. He smirked after a while and stopped moving his things around.

"So what about ye? Top? Bottom?" he asked and nodded towards the bunk bed. It was a peace-offering.  
  
Daryl snorted and shifted.

"I ain't sleeping in no cell. Especially not with you. I ain't no fag" he murmured and turned around to leave.

"Besides. There ain't no debate. I'm a top. Obviously."

Connor snorted louder than intended.

"Did yer really just say that?"

Daryl couldn't fight a smirk either.

"Fuck you" he murmured and kept walking so he could get his own place to sleep ready.  
  
He could hear Connor chuckling in his cell.

"Well, you certainly wanna do that."


	8. Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 1 " _Seed_ "

  
  
by onetwopunch

_He was watching Murphy sleep in the filthy bed by the window. The wound looked horrible, and Connor wasn't even sure if his twin was going to make it. His dark-haired half wouldn't stop coughing, wouldn't stop moaning and throwing up blood. He was very feverish, his black hair even darker than it had already been. It stuck to his head, and when Connor stroke it he could feel the wetness, the heat._

_"Don't worry, brother. 'm here. 'm here."_

_Stitching up the veins and the skin on his brother's neck had been the worst and single most bloody experience in his life, but right now he was just glad that Murphy had made it through._

_Would make it through._

_"What...what..fuck's wrong with us, Connor" the younger MacManus croaked and Connor chuckled, while trying to cool his twin's face with a wet cloth._

_"I don't know, Murph. Looks like that shit can't kill us."_

_He watched how his twin grabbed his rosary and stroke it with his thumb, and after watching for a while he placed his tattooed hand on his brothers to hold the item with him._

_"See, I told ye god's watching over us. Ye just gotta believe, brother" he muttered and patted his twins cheek with an affectionate smile, since he knew how much Murphy hated it when he started motherhenning him. But Connor did not care about it, because he still had his brother even after that nasty bite, because this whole thing could have turned into an absolute nightmare. Murphy could have died if it weren't for him stopping the bleeding. Just for a second he tried to imagine what it would have been like if he had lost Murphy to this blood loss, but here he was, his twin, moaning and breathing and moving and hot, not cold._

_In his dream they were getting out of Boston together, making their way up north. In this dream world they were hiding in a tiny deserted hut up in the mountains, eating berries and whatever they shot. In this world they had their dog Hannibal with them, and Connor would get bit during a hunting trip two years after the outbreak. But it wouldn't matter, because they were twins, because they were immune, because even such a fucked up disease couldn't separate them._   
  
_In this dream the walkers would never touch Murphy again, because the bite made him uninteresting for them. Both brothers would be living in that small hut, not having to fear any more walkers, not having to run, not having to kill. They would just be, live together and die as old gray-haired men, with the walkers long since gone and rotten by the time they reached that age._   
  
_In his dream Murphy, that secret fucking romantic, would find the girl of his dreams and make him an uncle. In his dream they would die the same day, only minutes apart, with Connor going first, because he could not bear outliving his beloved twin brother. In his dreams everything was green and peaceful, not red and violent and..._

The Irishman woke up with a start when he hit his head on the iron frame of the bunk bed he was sleeping in.

Way to wake up from a nice dream.

Connor groaned and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling, massaging his aching head with a sigh. He could feel the incredible pain in his chest again, like someone had ripped his heart and lungs out with their bare hands. He swallowed hard but would not cry.  
  
The times he had spent weeping because of his brother's death were over, now there was just the deep and bitter sadness that always accompanied dreams like the one he'd just had. The Irishman raised his head a bit to have a look outside, trying to make out what time it was. It was still dark outside, so he probably hadn't slept for more than a couple of hours.

He felt so terribly alone all of the sudden, not only because of the dream but also because of Daryl. He wasn't used to the sudden separation after everything they had been through this winter, but it looked like his friend was really going to pull this thing through. He didn't want them to be sleeping in the same room. Connor snorted and shook his head.  
  
Fucking Daryl, acting like a teenaged girl all of a sudden just because people were there. People who had eyes and could see them. The Irishman sat up and nearly hit his head again, freezing only seconds before he hit the upper bed. He watched his sleeping friend for just a minute longer, considering what he should do. But the pain in his chest told him that he needed distraction, and he knew exactly how he was going to get it.

* * *

Daryl startled awake when he felt how something moved behind him. He was still lying on the perch between the two stairs that led down to ground level. When his eyes snapped open he could see Rick, who was still sitting where he had positioned himself when they had all gone to sleep.  
  
It looked like their leader had fallen asleep as well. Daryl grabbed his knife when he could feel how the thing behind him moved again. He turned around abruptly, placing his blade right on its throat. He groaned and rolled his eyes when he saw that it was Connor. "Jesus..." he murmured and put the knife down. The Irishman grinned at him.

"Call me Connor."

The hunter frowned.

"Screw yah, what the fuck are yah doing?"

Connor smirked and lay down next to him.

"I can't fucking sleep in this cell. I didn't break out of te Hoag fer nothing" he murmured and grabbed the corner of Daryl's blanket.

His friend watched him with a raised eyebrow and sat up.

"What the fuck. Yah ain't sleeping here" he growled, but Connor wouldn't get up.  
  
He shifted and moved until he was in a comfortable position.

"I said you ain't sleeping here!" the hunter repeated and shoved his friend, who nearly fell down the stairs to his left.

"Fuck you! And I said I ain't sleeping in a cell."

"Then go downstairs and sleep on the floor, or, I don't know, move yer crap over there!"

"So what, like we didn't sleep right next ta each other fer the past couple of months? Now shut up, the others are trying t'sleep" Connor murmured and rested his head on both his arms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Daryl glared at his friend a little while longer, but when he noticed that the Irishman didn't seem to react or move at all the hunter sighed and lay back down as well.

"If yer ass ain't back in yer cell by tomorrow morning when everybody gets up then I swear 'm gonna shove yah down these stairs so you break your neck" he growled and turned his back on his friend. For a while he just eyed Rick downstairs, praying to god that he wouldn't wake up now and see them like that. Connor chuckled and moved extra close on purpose, wrapping an arm and a leg around his friend.

"Why, are ye scared they're gonna find out 'bout our secret romance?"

Daryl started kicking and struggling.

"Get yer fucking mits off me!" he spat and turned around so he could kick and punch his friend properly.  
  
Connor started laughing and fought back.

"Oh see, she's all over me, want a piece of me Darylena, well, ye have ta bite it off!"

"I'm gonna break yer neck!" the hunter grunted and his friend laughed even more. Daryl knew that he didn't really stand a chance against Connor anymore, especially now that the Irishman had recovered from his bite and depression. The blonde was life itself again, which was why he would always win. Pretty soon Daryl found himself in a headlock, and for a second he really considered stabbing his friend. Because this reminded him way too much of how Merle had always treated him, and the fact that Connor had started calling him Darylena as well didn't exactly help either.

"Let me go! Seriously! I swear, 'm gonna kill yah!" he grunted and kneed Connor's stomach hard.

The Irishman couldn't breathe for a second and finally let go.

"Jesus fucking christ, stop being so goddamn touchy all te time. Isn't exactly the first time 'm lying next t'you asshole" he murmured and rubbed his aching belly.

"Yeah, yah wanna be any more obvious? How bout you wake everyone up and let 'em know while yer at it."

Connor turned on his back and snorted.

"Fuck you. You fucking know why 'm doin it" he growled and Daryl snorted as well.

"Yeah, well, and you know that I ain't him. It's been a year and yer still not getting it."

"Screw ye."

They were quiet for a while until Daryl finally turned on his back to somewhat eye his friend.  
Connor was lying next to him, covering his eyes with one arm as he tried to sleep on.

"This ain't 'bout those cells, is it?"

The Irishman sighed.

"Obviously."

Daryl growled and turned his head to look at him.

"Don't tell me yer getting started on yer crying crap again."

Connor snorted and stopped covering his eyes. He stared at the ceiling and shook his head.

"Nah" he murmured and the hunter raised an eyebrow. The whole thing was starting to annoy him, what made it even worse was the fact that he just knew that the others could hear them. He didn't exactly have a problem with this kind of conversation anymore, simply because they had gotten really close when they had been away from the group. He knew his friend all too well by now, and he could just tell that something was bugging Connor, that it was about his brother again. Because whenever the Irishman decided to go all girl on him it was always about his twin.

"Well then, what is it, asshole. Shoot and get back t'yer fucking cell. I need some sleep."

"Fuck you, I don't need t'tell ye shit."

Daryl rolled his eyes and growled, but wouldn't say anything to that. He knew how Connor worked, and he also knew that he was going to tell him anyway. He closed his eyes and breathed out tiredly, waiting for his friend to talk. He could feel the Irishman shift and after a couple of minutes of silence the other man started talking.

"I just had a weird dream. And now I can't stop thinking about everything that happened t'day."

The hunter opened an eye and looked at his friend.

"Yah mean yer suicide run? Damn right that shit's giving yah nightmares. It should. Hope that yer dreaming about it for a whole longer."

Connor snorted.

"Screw ye. I wasn't dreaming about that."

Silence.

"I had to do it. I really wanted t'make sure. How much that shit's changed me. And that was my only chance. Being so close t'walkers.  
To so many walkers. I needed ta see their reaction t'be sure. Fer te past couple of months I had a hard time believing that shit."

"What shit?"

"That I'm immune. Or whatever it is that it is."

Daryl snorted.

"You ain't normal, that's for sure."

Connor snickered.

"Fuck you."

His face fell after a moment.

"I still don't get it."

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned around so he could face his friend. He folded his arms and watched Connor's profile.  
The Irishman was lost in thoughts again, and he was staring straight at the ceiling.  
He could see the silly tattoo on his neck, his blood pumping underneath it.

"What's there not t'get? Some geek bit yah, infected yah with their muck, but for some reason it didn't kill yah. It didn't turn yah.  
Or it turned yah, but in a way that yer stupid brain is still working. Not that it ever worked."

"Why me, though. Out of all those fucking people who got bit. Why me."

Daryl eyed the tattoo on his neck again and let his gaze wander down on his friend where he could see the cross on his arm.  
The arm where he had been bitten. The hunter snorted.

"Maybe it was yer stupid god's will."

Connor snorted as well.

"Yeah, I bet."

"Why not? I thought you were believing in that shit."

The Irishman coughed and shook his head.

"If it were god's will then I wouldn't be the only one who survived that."

Daryl wanted to say something, but remained silent. He had known that it was about Connor's brother.

"This is the part I don't get, man. Belief aside, just taking the facts. Me and Murph, we were fucking twins. Our Ma had us at te same time.  
We were more alike than normal brothers. So why did he die? We both got bit. He died. I did not. He shouldn't have died. He should've been immune as well."

"Yah told me yah didn't look alike."

"Aye, but what's that gotta do with it?" Connor asked and turned his head to look at the man next to him.

"Well, yah were fraternal, not real proper twins. Maybe then it would've been different. Hell, I don't know. I ain't no doctor.  
And neither are you, dumbass."

The Irishman sighed and chewed on his lips. Daryl turned on his back again.

"Besides. Didn't yah say that he got bit in the neck? That he died from blood loss?"

Connor swallowed hard and nodded. He didn't want to remember, but now that his friend had talked about it he couldn't get the images out of his head again. There he was. Murphy. Lying in his arms. Blood. Everywhere. His hands started shaking.

"Aye" he whispered and Daryl sighed.

"Well. Maybe he was immune. Maybe he just died because of the wound."

The Irishman took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to keep calm. He still hated to talk about it.  
Didn't want to think about it, but it needed to be said. Because the uncertainty was driving him crazy.

"He turned" he said quietly and took another deep breath.

"Who knows. You might still turn. Someone's just gotta stab yah or something, you die, you turn.  
Rick said so. We all carry the thing that turns you."

"I _was_ dead, Daryl."

The hunter closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew that his friend wanted answers, that he was never going to let it go. He didn't have any answers, and he was getting tired of it. Talking about death all the time, about Murphy, about _that_ night. It was like he could still feel it. How his friend's heartbeat had sped up and slowed down in a matter of seconds, until it had stopped completely. For a couple of seconds his heart had _stopped_. Connor was right. He had been dead for a moment. But then he had come back to life.

"Maybe not long enough" the hunter growled and tried to sleep.

"He shouldn't have died, man" Connor murmured and turned on his side as well.

"Shut up and sleep."

* * *

They startled awake when they heard the creaking of the doors. Daryl moved his head abruptly and shifted, only to see that most of the group were already awake downstairs. He hated that he wasn't the first to wake up, because most of the time he was, and what made it even worse was the fact that he could feel an arm around his waist. _Jesus._ He growled and turned around. He could see that Connor was still lying next to him, and at some point during the night he had wrapped his arm around him again.  
  
 _And everyone could see it._  
  
Daryl cursed and sat up, then he gave the Irishman a slap across his face. Connor startled awake and widened his eyes in surprise.  
  
"What the fuck.." he groaned and shifted, trying to sit up.  
  
Daryl stood up and took his blanket with him, so his friend lay there with no cover at all. The hunter kicked his thigh.

"I told yah t'move yer ass back in yer cell!" he hissed and kicked him once more.

"Ow! Jesus fucking christ, stop kicking me, you asshole" Connor complained and sat up so he could box his friend's thigh in return.

Daryl shook his head angrily and made his way downstairs. _The whole thing was embarrassing enough._

Connor groaned and rubbed his face tiredly. He could see Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog and Rick walking around downstairs and it looked like they had been awake for a while now. It took him a while to wake up properly and the mornings were still the worst for him. He always woke up with a splitting headache, ever since the bite.  
  
He sighed and got up to make his way back to his cell, to get something to drink and maybe a cigarette. He entered the room and searched his bag for a while, only to remember that he _still_ had no cigarettes. He cursed and shook his head. _Christ. How much he needed a cigarette_. _Especially when he had headaches like that._ _This was a prison after all. Someone had to have stored any cigarettes somewhere. Year old or not. He_ really _needed to look_ _out for some today._

Connor froze when he could hear gentle sobs coming from somewhere down the corridor. He could hear people talking downstairs, but there was also some gentle crying. He knew that Lori and Carol had their cell on this floor as well, so he made his way over to them to see what was going on. He found Rick's wife sitting there all alone in her cell. When the Irishman turned around he saw that Carol was running around downstairs with the others. He looked back at Lori and bit his lip, unsure what to do or say. "Lori?" he asked quietly and she looked up in surprise. When he saw her tear-stained face he entered her cell and looked at her.

"What's te matter?"

She sniffed and wiped her nose.

"It's nothing"

The Irishman frowned and folded his arms.

"But...well, yer crying. So there's obviously something."

Lori didn't say anything for a while and tried to calm down. She kept rubbing her thighs and stared down at her belly the whole time. Connor turned his head once more to see what was going on downstairs. None of the group seemed to notice what was going on with Lori. Especially not Carol, Herschel or Rick, the very persons who had been looking after her most of the time. The Irishman shifted and came closer, now that he realized that it was up to him to do something. He knelt down in front of her and sighed.

"Look, 'm not very good at this. Truth be told, I've never really talked t'many ladies in me life, being busy and in prison and all that.. I know, me?  
Not talking much t'ladies? Real shocker."

Lori looked up and smiled a little. Connor smirked.

"But...yer obviously upset. And I know what that feels like" he went on and Lori looked down again.

"And I also know how much talking's helped me. Made me feel better. So.."

"My son can't stand me. And my husband, after what I put him through..."

Connor snorted.

"Carl? Of course he can stand ye. He's yer kid! Kids could never really hate their Ma."

Lori sniffed and wiped her cheek. The Irishman smiled.

"Besides. Maybe I just gotta talk some sense into the kid."

Rick's wife laughed and took a deep breath.

"I know you will. You always do. And I thank you for that. It's just that..he adores Rick. He'd do anything for his father.  
And he wants to be like him..but now that Rick... I tried to talk to him...he...he hates me."

The Irishman bit his lip again and just looked at her.

"Yeah, I already noticed that. Is it..well, it's not really any of my business but...is it about Shane?"

Lori nodded.

"I put them at odds. I put that knife in his hand. It wasn't his fault.." she said quietly and started sobbing again.  
Connor didn't say anything for a while and waited for Lori to calm down.

"Listen. I had the chance t'talk t'yer husband two nights ago. I know it's some pretty tough shit, but I think he did te right thing.  
Shane...he was dangerous. Ta you, ta Rick, ta everyone. He put everyone in danger, and that more than once.  
But still. I noticed that Rick..."

The Irishman sighed and rubbed his face.

"Well. Me'n Daryl didn't see ye people fer more than six months. And we noticed the change right from the off. Rick's different. He's changed. A lot actually. There's a few things that are bugging me about yer husband. I mean I get it. Yer relationship's changed and I can understand that yer upset. But how things turned out now, that surely isn't all yer fault. And sure, you've done a few things that I'm not too fond of either. But I think ye shouldn't be too hard on yerself. Rick sure has done some things wrong as well."

Lori sighed and combed her hair with her fingers.

"He's just trying to protect the group. Keeps us together. I can understand that, he's trying to do the right thing..he's a good man and..."

"Aye, but this isn't about his good intentions" Connor interrupted her and looked at her.

"This is about you. Yer upset. And worried. And ye got every right t'be. And you should be. But you shouldn't let it eat you up.  
Leave that kinda worrying t'the rest of us. T'me. Cos ye know who doesn't give a fuck about any of that shit?"

Lori shook her head and Connor pointed at her belly.

"This little fella in there. And we want it t'stay that way, aye?"

She chuckled and nodded.

"We don't want him t'be stressed, okay? So calm down. Let the others worry 'bout it. Besides.  
My best hope's that Rick'll get off his high dictatorship horse as soon as he sees te little fella."

Lori smiled and chuckled.

"Her."

Connor frowned.

"What?"

"You mean as soon as he sees her."

The Irishman chuckled.

"Oh come on, we all know that it's a he. Just look at that. Anyone who can weigh that much's gotta be a boy. Strong little fella. With loads af muscles" he said and pointed at Lori's swollen belly. Rick's wife smiled even more and rubbed it. Connor watched her for a moment, then he felt awkward because of the whole situation.

"Anyway, gotta go. People want me t'clear the rest af the prison with 'em" he said and got up.

He was on his way out of Lori's cell when she called out.  
The Irishman turned around again to look at her.

"Thank you."

He smiled back at her.

"Yer very welcome."


	9. Imprisoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 1 " _Seed_ " and episode 2 " _Sick_ "

**_Two days after the farm incident..._ **

Daryl was staring down the road, eyeing the dark houses in the neighbourhood with an angry frown. It was a pretty shitty day, a weird mixture of rain and wind and sunshine. Like the weather was trying to mirror his feelings. He didn't know how many more times he could take it. Connor's freaking heart and lungs just would keep giving in.   
  
He took a drag on one of the cigarettes he had stolen from his friend, and as he stared at the cancer stick he had to think about the irony. No wonder his friend stopped breathing every now and then. If he really had been smoking since he was 14 years old, then no wonder his lungs couldn't take this sort of infection anymore.

It was so ridiculous. Really. He had chosen to stay with Connor, to look after him, to believe in him, and he was already getting sick of this. He did not want to do all this, watch him suffer and god knows what his friend was going through because of this bite. He was no doctor, he didn't know what was going on. Everything was so. weird.   
  
The hunter took another drag on the cigarette and watched one of the few walkers that were staggering down the street. He saw all the bite wounds, the blood, their ripped clothes. Connor was supposed to be one of them, as his own bite was still poisoning him, but something was stopping the infection, like the bite...  
  
Daryl stopped thinking and stared at the staggering woman when he noticed that her arm was missing. For just a moment he watched her, thinking his idea through, then he came to the conclusion that maybe this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do.

He made his way upstairs and grabbed his knife with a grunt. He knew that it would probably be easier if only he found an axe or a saw, but right now he didn't even care about that. He just wanted it to be over, wanted his friend to pull through all this crap. Daryl climbed up the ladder to the attic and looked at Connor, who was still lying on the dirty mattress, eyes closed, the bandage around his arm bloody all over again. As soon as the redneck had entered the attic he closed the hatch and just stared at the Irishman, the knife still in his hand. He needed to do this. The infection needed to be stopped, he just had to make it better before it killed his best friend.

He didn't want to be alone, and after all these months of fighting the blonde, beating him up, shoving him away, he had to realize that he needed that man. More than ever. Especially now that he would be all alone, without his group, without his brother, should Connor really die after fighting that infection for more than two days. Daryl approached the other man and clutched to his knife as if his own life depended on it.  
  
He knew that it was probably going to hurt his friend. _A lot_. But even that wouldn't make him stop. When he reached Connor he knelt down and grabbed the blonde's injured arm. He could see the dark and thick blood, the cross on his arm and the Veritas tattoo on his finger. The Irishman was so going to kill him for taking this arm.

Daryl sighed and placed the blade of his knife just a couple of inches underneath his friend's left elbow.  
And fuck, even he was having doubts now. He started chewing on his lower lip and looked at Connor's face,  
but it looked like his friend was still unconscious.

He needed to do something.

"Alright. Fuck it. Sorry, brother" he muttered and was just about to start cutting when the Irishman suddenly shifted and moaned.

"What..?" he murmured and blinked a couple of times, and that made it even harder for Daryl.

He started cutting nevertheless.  
Just a second later the other man was wide awake and started yelling.

"Ow! Ye sick fucker!" he screamed and tried to pull his arm away, but Daryl held on to him.

"It's for the best, I'm sick of this shit!"

"No!" Connor yelled and managed to punch his friend in the face.

The hunter fell back and the Irishman grabbed his injured arm while trying to sit up.  
He started coughing and moaning again, but that wouldn't stop him from sitting upright and staring at his friend with wide eyes.

"What te fuck?!" he complained and held on to his left arm, where only a small cut could be seen.

"Maybe that's the only way to stop it from spreading!" Daryl answered and Connor fell to the side and curled himself up.

"Are ye stupid? I'd rather die than run around like a fucking cripple!"

* * *

The men were all gathering around a table in the dinning hall to get their weapons ready. Rick and T-Dog had found and gathered many other weapons from the bodies and the cell block earlier this morning, so they even got to pick. Daryl and Connor were the only ones who stuck to their beloved weapons, they only took new flashlights.

"Not bad" T-Dog said as he observed a rifle.

"Flashbangs, CS Triple-Chasers. Not sure how they'd work on walkers but we'll take them."

Connor smirked and took one of them.

"Oh I got my ideas for these babies" he said and chuckled.

He looked up when he saw how Daryl took one of the riot helmets.  
It was still sticky with slime and blood and the hunter pulled a face.

"I ain't wearing this shit."

Connor snickered

"Well, it'd sure be an improvement t'yer face. I was looking forward t'not seeing it fer a while."

"Fuck you" Daryl growled and hit Connor's head with the helmet.

"Ow! Are you fucking crazy?!" the Irishman complained and boxed his friend's shoulder. He grabbed the helmet to take a look at it.

"Ah, jesus, now that shit's all over my clothes, man" he went on and tried to get rid of the slime that stuck to his jacket. Daryl snorted.

"Well, sure is an improvement."

"Ha ha, very fucking funny. That shit is disgusting" Connor murmured and wiped his fingers on Daryl's vest.

"We could boil 'em" T-Dog, who was looking at a sticky glove, suggested. Daryl looked up with a frown.

"Ain't enough firewood in the whole forest. No."

He startled and backed off when Connor tried to put the helmet on his head.

"Jesus, get off!"

The Irishman started laughing and tried once more, but when his friend boxed his stomach he let go and threw the helmet away, whilst still chuckling quietly.

Daryl grabbed one of the batons and swung it around experimentally.

"Besides, we made it this far without 'em, right?"

Connor nodded and took the other stick.

"Aye, don't need any of that shit anyway."

"Herschel?" they heard someone ask and turned around.  
  
Carol was standing there by the door, waiting for the old farmer to come with her.

"Everything alright?" Rick asked and everybody stopped talking.  
  
They knew that it was about Lori, and truth be told, Rick wasn't the only one worried. Herschel followed Carol back inside the cell section, whereas the others got their things ready. Rick was helping T-Dog in one of the bulletproof vests and Daryl was getting his crossbow ready when Carl came to join them, taking one of the helmets and putting it on his head. Connor chuckled and came closer to him to knock on the helmet. The boy grinned and put it down again.

"Would've been too cool for this anyway" he said and put it away again. Connor ruffled his hair.

"Fer what?"

"Getting the rest of the walkers" Carl said and grabbed one of the flashlights.  
  
Connor frowned and put his hand on it so Carl couldn't take it.

"Hold up buddy, who told ye that yer coming with us?"

The boy looked at his father who was still helping T-Dog. Connor turned around and looked at Rick.  
  
The Irishman snorted when he wouldn't say anything.

"There's no way we're taking the kid with us."

"I'm not a kid anymore! I want to help. I always help" Carl countered and Connor snorted. The kid managed to take the flashlight anyway.

"There's a shitload af walkers in those tunnels, we don't know if there's walls down or anything, the whole mission itself is pretty fucking insane. Even I'm nervous, and they don't even attack me. There's _no way_ we're taking a kid with us" the Irishman said and wouldn't stop looking at Rick.

Daryl, who was finished with his crossbow, came closer and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, knock it off man. Let 'im" he murmured but his friend shook him off.

Rick eyed Connor and Carl a little while longer, then he moved forward and took his son's flashlight.

"You won't need that. I need you to stay put."

Carl snorted and looked at him in disbelief.

"You're _kidding_."

"We don't know what's in there. Something goes wrong, you could be the last man standing. I need you to handle things here."

Carl eyed his father for a while, then he narrowed his eyes at Connor. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Sure" he murmured and nodded. He didn't seem too pleased, but he gave in nevertheless. His father nodded and handed him his set of keys.

"Great. Let's go."

* * *

Once again there was nothing but darkness surrounding them as they made their way through the dark corridors of the prison. Not everyone had a flashlight, only Rick, T-Dog, Herschel and Daryl. The former policeman would always go first, the others were right behind him. The corridors were narrow and filthy, and Connor bumped into Daryl and Herschel more than once.  
  
The old farmer was another story. The Irishman didn't even know why Rick had insisted that Herschel should come with them. That was how their leader worked now: including children and old people. It made the Irishman shake his head once again, and most certainly not for the last time.

"Fucking ridiculous. So many people. Should've let me handle things on my own just like yesterday" Connor hissed and Daryl hushed him.

"Shut up. Don't be ridiculous."

"It ain't ridiculous, I.."

Rick hushed them and Connor fell quiet, while eyeing their leader's back angrily. When they walked around the corner they could see half eaten and rotting bodies on the ground and the smell was getting worse and worse again.  
  
The Irishman turned around when he heard how Glenn started spraying arrows on the walls so they knew where to go in case of emergencies. Everyone started searching the cells, and Connor used the time to make his way past everyone and walked ahead to keep an eye on things up front. When he saw how Maggie got too close to one of the rotting corpses on the ground he nudged her and pointed at it.

"Eh, watch yer step. They could be walkers and bite yer foot."

He could tell that she was scared. Everyone was.   
Grown men or not, this was armageddon, and they were trapped in dark halls with walking corpses all around them.  
Connor kept an eye on the corridor in front of them whereas the others scanned the rest of the cells.

"Anything?" he heard Rick say and turned around again.

Their leader was standing right next to him and pointed his flashlight at the dark corridors in front of them.  
  
Connor shook his head.

"It's quiet. Bit too quiet if ye ask me."

"We need to keep moving."

In just a matter of seconds the group gathered in a corner and Glenn sprayed the next arrow.  
Connor could see that the corridor split in front of them, so he placed a hand on Rick's chest and grabbed his flashlight.

"Let me check it out first. 's safer fer me" he whispered and started walking.

"Are yah crazy? What did I.." Daryl protested behind them, but Rick hushed him.

The hunter watched his friend leave, and he was quite shocked that once again Connor did not seem to care about the talk they'd just had the day before. Even months before. The Irishman just kept walking. He couldn't see any walkers in any of the cells to his left and right, and now that they had almost made it to the end of this section he already doubted that there were any walkers left. Maybe they really had managed to kill most of them yesterday.  
  
A gentle thud to his left made him stop. After a couple of seconds he could hear it again. Connor frowned and undid the safety of his Beretta, then he started walking again. There was another corner right in front of him, and the closer he got the more clearly he could hear the strange thud, as if someone was banging on a door. When he finally reached the corner and pointed his flashlight to his left he startled and let out a surprised gasp. The light of his flashlight was now illuminating about a dozen rotten and bloody grimaces right in front of him. Some walkers had gathered around a door and turned around to look at him, obviously attracted by the light. Connor swallowed and walked backwards.

"Fellas" he greeted them and nodded, and when they started following him it made him feel uncomfortable. Yesterday had been different, because none of the walkers he had killed had been looking at him like that. None of them had shown any interest in him. But those walkers were different. They were all growling and glaring at the flashlight in Connor's hand and kept staggering after him. He pointed his gun at them but wouldn't pull the trigger, knowing that it would be way too loud because the corridor was too small, and he didn't want to attract any more walkers.  
  
For a moment he considered running right at them, so he could stab and attack them right away. It still didn't look like they were really interested in eating him, but they were a little too interested in him in general, which was why Connor was so hesitant this time. He couldn't stop thinking about what Daryl had said, that he shouldn't rely on any of that at all. He didn't want to get bitten again, which was why he made his way back instead. He knew that they wouldn't stand a chance in such a tight space, they needed to draw them out in the open so they were easier targets and no one got hurt. The Irishman cursed and started running back. Half way down the corridor he saw that the group was coming.

"Walkers!" he whisper-shouted, hoping not to attract the walkers any more.

They others widened their eyes in surprise, then they could see the undead who were still following Connor and who couldn't keep their eyes off the moving light.

"Go back! Go back! Move!" Rick shouted and urged the group to run back to the exits.

The noise they were making made it even worse. Connor could hear how the walkers behind him got angry, now that they were obviously facing something which they considered food. He could hear how they started walking faster. Everyone but Daryl started running back, and soon the whole group disappeared behind a corner.

"Move faster!" Daryl shouted as he waited for his friend to get back as well.   
  
He was pointing his crossbow at the walkers behind him, and when one of them got too close to the Irishman for his liking he shot an arrow right at them. Connor jumped to the right, trying to avoid the arrow. "Are ye trying t'fucking kill me?!" he yelled back and froze when he saw a door right next to him. His mind was racing for a moment, thinking about a thousand possibilities. Before he knew what he was doing he grabbed the door handle.

"What the fuck are yah doing?!" he could hear Daryl yell, but a second later he disappeared behind the door, leaving Daryl alone in the hallway.

"Connor, where the fuck are yah going! This isn't the way out you dumbass!" the hunter shouted and tried to get to the door, but the walkers were already passing it, approaching him with angry growls and snarls. "Leprechaun!" he yelled and turned around when he could hear how Rick called his name on the other side of the hallway. "Jesus!" he growled and finally ran after the group as well, praying to god that the walkers were still uninterested in his friend.

* * *

Connor could hear them walking on the other side of the door, how they were going after his group. He put his Beretta in his leg holster and grabbed his knife instead, hoping that his plan would work out the way he wanted it to. He had run inside the room and closed the door to give the walkers a chance to make their way past him, so he could go after them as soon as they had turned their backs on him. He didn't like running away from them, no matter how immune he seemed to be, running after them was more for his liking. The Irishman took a deep breath and pressed his ear against the door just to make sure that no walkers were staggering around in front of it, then he opened it slowly and carefully.

He could see how a couple of figures in prison clothing were just about to disappear around the corner and went after them, trying not to attract too much attention to himself. He could see that the herd had somewhat multiplied by now, and even for him it would be impossible to take them out in these dark halls. When the last walker reached the corner he lunged at him and grabbed him by his neck, then he stabbed the back of his head with a grunt.  
  
Some of the walkers in front of him turned around, attracted by the noise, but they just gave him a growl and turned around when they could hear an agonizing scream down the hallway. Connor dropped the walker he had just killed and looked up in surprise. He could hear even more excited screaming and muttering down the hall, and the herd of walkers was heading right for it.

"Shit!" the Irishman panted and turned his head to see if there was another way apart from the one the walkers were blocking. He could see another path to his right, so he cursed once more and started running, ignoring his master plan to kill all the walkers on his own. He just knew that the scream had sounded like someone getting bitten, because such a noise had once escaped his own mouth.  
  
Connor followed the labyrinth of corridors, hearing the never-ending screams until he finally found the group again. They were all screaming and yelling at each other, and when he finally came to a halt right next to Daryl he saw who had been screaming like that. Herschel was lying on the ground in front of him, and Maggie, Glenn and Rick were looking at his leg. Connor could see a walker to their left with a fresh bullet wound. He let out a surprised gasp when Daryl shoved him hard.

"Yah done hiding in a closet, yah fucking moron?"

Connor shoved him back but ignored his outburst, he just glared at Maggie and Herschel in horror.

"I told ye t'watch yer fucking feet!"

They all froze when they saw how the herd of prison walkers turned the corner and started staggering in their direction with angry growls.  
Connor looked up and grabbed his knife.

"Oh jesus, get 'im outta here! I'll hold them off!" he yelled and started walking in their direction, but Daryl placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

"Don't run full frontal on them, dumbass. I got it covered" he said and pointed his crossbow at the walkers.

Connor snorted and put his knife away to grab his guns instead.

"Ye can't do shit with a bunch of feathery pointy sticks. _I_ got it covered. "

They could hear how Rick and Glenn tried to get Herschel back on his feet, and after a couple of seconds they could hear T-Dog and Maggie screaming.

"Back! We're blocked!"

Connor and Daryl turned their heads to see what was going on behind them.  
They could see even more walkers on the other side of the corridor.

"Shit, if we keep going like this they're gonna surround us!" Connor said and made his way to the rest of the group, trying to help them with Herschel.

"Get back! Get back! This way!" Rick yelled when he saw another corridor to their left.

"Get him outta here!" Connor yelled and stayed behind them with Daryl to keep the walkers away.   
  
The undead prisoners kept following.

The Irishman suddenly darted forward to stab some of them, but when they started to grab him he staggered backwards again.

"Shit! It's too many of them!"

"Let's leave!" Daryl shouted and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.

They ran after the group, with the walkers still following them. They were getting closer and closer, and there was so much screaming and growling going on that everyone was starting to panic. The group reached the end of the corridor where a door was blocking their way. "Get it open!" Rick, who was holding a wailing Herschel, yelled and tried to kick the door open. Connor and Daryl were still watching their backs, and the walkers were only about five meters away from them.

"Hurry!" Daryl yelled and turned around to see what was taking them so long.

He grunted when Connor suddenly shoved him further back and placed himself in front of him.

"Help them! I got it covered!" he yelled and started shooting the walkers.

"Got it!" T-Dog yelled as the doors swung open and everyone hurried inside.  
  
Connor was the last to sprint inside, and as soon as he entered the room T-Dog slammed the door shut behind him. A few seconds later it started shaking violently and the walkers started banging on the doors. Both T-Dog and Connor pressed their backs against it to keep it closed. Herschel was still screaming and wriggling in agony on the floor, and the rest of the group tried to keep him steady so they could take a proper look at his leg. Another violent bang on the door almost made Connor stumble, but he managed to keep the door shut.

"Fuck me...Hurry fer christ's sakes!" he yelled and looked at the group. Daryl suddenly looked up and made his way back to them, grabbing a prybar from his quiver. He shoved the Irishman away and put it between the door handles to keep the door locked.   
  
Connor patted his shoulder and nodded, then he ran for the rest of the group to get a better look at Herschel's leg. He could see a big bloody wound where his Achilles tendon had used to be, and it was bleeding heavily. Glenn was getting back to them with a bunch of towels he had found and Rick pulled the leg of Herschel's pants up.

"Ye gotta keep it from spreading. Otherwise it'll kill him! It doesn't spread too fast, it's creepin it's way up his blood circulation t'his brain. Ye gotta stop it!" Connor yelled and got rid of his belt. He remembered it all too clearly, what it had felt like when he had been bit. How the virus had crept its way up his arm, thick, burning, slowly, painfully.  
  
He had been in pure agony, and judging from Herschel's screams the old man didn't feel anything different.  
The Irishman knelt down next to him and wrapped his belt around the man's thigh. Herschel wouldn't stop wailing.

"Hold him down" Rick suddenly demanded and Connor strapped the belt even tighter around the man's leg.

"I'm trying!"

"There's only one way to keep him alive" the policeman went on and grabbed his hatchet.   
  
Connor widened his eyes.

"What te fuck are ye..."

Rick struck down determinedly and started to cut Herschel's leg off. They could feel how the old man was trying to get away from him, pushing and fighting and screaming even more. When the former policeman wouldn't stop hacking up the man's leg Connor could no longer look at it. He swallowed hard and tried to think of something else, but he could still hear the disgusting banging and smacking right next to him.  
  
Some of the blood even bespattered his clothes, and he tried his hardest not to retch. Herschel suddenly stopped moving and passed out. After another three strikes Rick finally managed to cut his leg off and fell back down, looking at the blood on his hands and the amputated leg. "Hoh.." he gasped and threw the hatchet away, then he knelt back down next to Herschel.

"He's bleeding out" he observed and Connor grabbed the towels from Glenn, who was holding on to Maggie and stared at the bloody mess in absolute horror.

"No shit! We gotta stop the bleeding. When I said we gotta keep it from spreading I didn't fucking mean that we gotta mutilate him!"

Daryl, who had been with them the whole time and had tried to keep Herschel on the ground, suddenly moved next to them. "Duck" he whispered, a second later they could hear something moving to their left. For a second Daryl and Connor looked at each other, then they both grabbed their weapons and got up to take aim at whatever was watching them on the other side of the cafeteria. They could see five figures standing behind the counter, with baseball bats, knives and guns pointed at them.

"Holy shit!" said one of the prisoners, who had a beard and shoulder long blonde hair.

"Who the hell are you?!" Daryl asked and approached them slowly. Connor did the same, both his guns pointed at two of them.

"Who the hell are _you_?" one of them asked back.

"You don't fucking talk, we asked ye first" Connor growled and pointed his gun at the man who had spoken.

"He's bleeding out, we gotta go back!" they heard Rick shout behind them.

Neither Connor nor Daryl would turn around. They kept their eyes fixed on the prisoners.

"Why don't you come on out there? Slow and steady" Daryl ordered and Connor nodded.

"Aye, one wrong move and yer dead."

The other survivors did as they were told, making their way out of the back of the cafeteria.  
The Latino and a slim African-American were the first to come out, and especially the latter reacted.  
He was staring straight at Connor.

"Woah, hold on. I know you."

Daryl frowned and looked at his friend for a moment.

"What are you prattlin about?" the Latino asked and the other man pointed at Connor.

"Yeah, just look, Tomas! It's those guys! Those guys who were all over the news! Those freaks who shot those gangsters, the ones who managed t'get outta the slammer just before this shit started!"

Connor moved closer with an angry frown.

"Aye, and it's gonna be you next if ye don't put those fuckin knives away."

"Take it easy, man. This ain't the time for your saint bullshit" Daryl hissed but Connor ignored him.

"What happened to him?" the Latino, who's name was apparently Tomas, asked and pointed at unconscious Herschel.

"He got bit" Daryl answered and the whole group reacted.

"Bit?" the man opposite them asked and drew his gun. The other members of his group grabbed their weapons as well.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Easy now!" Daryl said and backed off a bit.

"Drop te fuckin gun or I swear 'm gonna blow yer scumbag brain out right here 'n now" Connor growled and pointed both his guns at Tomas.

T-Dog let got of the door and came to join them with his gun.

"Nobody needs to get hurt" Daryl went on and tried to get closer again.

"Only ones that are getting hurt here t'day are those fuckin lowlives" Connor murmured and Tomas pointed his gun right at the Irishman.

Glenn suddenly made his way right through them and headed for the kitchen.

"Do you have any medical supplies?"

"Woah, were do you think you're going?" the bigger African-American asked, but Glenn ignored them.

They all startled when the doors behind T-Dog started shaking again and the growling on the other side got louder.

"Who the hell are you people anyway, apart from this crackpot over there?" Tomas asked and eyed Connor once more.

"What did ye fuckin call me?" the Irishman asked and tried to get closer to the man, but Daryl shoved him back.

"I said _take it easy,_ dumbass."

"You don't look like no rescue team" the blonde prisoner with the beard observed.

"If a rescue team is what you're waiting for, don't" Rick, who was busy trying to get Herschel up, yelled from behind them. Connor snorted.

"No one'd come and rescue any prison scumbags anyway."

Tomas pointed his gun at him again.

"You got a problem, buddy?"

The Irishman snorted and gave him a death glare.

"Yeah, how about te fact that yer still breathing, fuckface?"

Daryl kicked his friend's thigh angrily.

"Knock it off with yer bullshit now!" he hissed and Connor glared at him, but couldn't answer because Rick started talking again.

"Come on, we gotta go!"

Daryl and T-Dog turned around to see what was going on behind them.  
Maggie and Rick were trying to lift Herschel up whereas Glenn came out of the kitchen with a trolley-table.  
Connor and Tomas wouldn't stop glaring at each other.

"Now! Come on! I need a hand here!"

Glenn and Rick placed the old man on the trolley and started moving it towards the door.

"Holy jesus!" the prisoner with the beard exclaimed when he saw Herschel's mutilated leg and turned away in horror, which made Connor frown. He had not expected a prisoner to react so anxious because of some blood. The blonde guy was about the only one of the group of inmates who reacted that way, the others didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"T! The door!" Rick yelled.

"Are you crazy?! Don't open that!" the slim African-American yelled and tried to stop them, but Connor placed himself right in front of him and pointed his gun at his head.

"One fucking move" he growled and waited for his group to make their way to the door.

T-Dog got rid of the prybar which had been blocking the door. It opened with another bang and walkers started getting in.

"We got this!" he yelled and started bashing their brains in.

"Connor! Daryl!" Rick yelled and the hunter turned around to see what was going on. The rest of the group was making their way out of the cafeteria.

"Come on, let's go" Daryl murmured and placed a hand on Connor's shoulder as he tried to pull his friend back.

"We can't just leave those fuckin bastards in here" the Irishman hissed and wouldn't stop looking at the prisoners.

"Knock it off! We need to get Herschel out of here!" Daryl hissed back and his friend looked at him.

"We don't know shit about these scumbags, they weren't locked up in here fer fuckin nothing! I think I should stay back, keep an eye on 'em."

"Are yah insane? Just so yah can do any of yer psycho crap and kill 'em? Don't be stupid, they'd just mob you! We fucking need yah out there, we'll take care of them later!" Daryl went on and grabbed Connor again, and this time he managed to get him out of the cafeteria.


	10. Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 2 " _Sick_ "

_**Boston – The Hoag, January 2008** _

It started with a simple bump. Connor and Murphy had been walking in one direction and Julio Mendez, member of a violent prison gang and rapist of five girls, in the other. The younger MacManus had accidentally bumped into the man, and this was enough to start something that felt like a war. The only problem wasn't just the fact that they were locked up with the most violent criminals of Boston.  
  
Connor's oh so beloved brother made it worse with his temper. It didn't just feel like all those prison bars were bringing out the worst of those other prisoners, it seemed to change the younger MacManus just as much. He was incredibly angry all the time, and it took even less to make him lash out at anyone who got too close or said the wrong things.

His older half knew what it was about. The lack of cigarettes every now and then certainly played a part there, but he could also tell that Murphy was secretly afraid, although he would never really show that or tell him. So when he bumped into Mendez and the latter made a cocky remark on that it was enough to make the dark-haired twin lose it. It was like he was a trapped and nervous dog, and there was no stopping him.  
  
Just in a matter of seconds Murphy was on the prisoner and buried his fists in his stomach and face. Connor tried to get his brother away from the fight, jumping at any of the other prisoners who decided to join the mess. And once again he was reminded that they really weren't invincible, that prisoners were the worst people you could ever imagine. It was all about anger and frustration and violence in here, since no one had anything to lose. No one - if you didn't count the Irishman in. Because Connor had something to lose, and that was his brother, who was really getting into his third prison fight now.

Murphy had expressed his desire to kill every last scumbag in here more than once, and it certainly looked like he was trying to achieve that now. But they were just two and the others were many, too many. By the time the guards finally reached the cafeteria Julio Mendez was nothing but a bloody pulp, Murphy and Connor only had scratches.  
  
Vocal and and physical fights had been going on ever since the Saints had entered the prison, which was why the guards already knew what was going on and who was causing them trouble. They instantly grabbed a few other prisoners and the younger MacManus to put them in solitary, no matter how many times his brother tried to reason with them and almost begged them not to take his twin away again. But everyone knew the brother's only weakness – separation.

What pissed the others off the most was the lack of a true reaction from Connor whenever the brothers were together, but it was a whole different story when they were alone. It wasn't like the older twin doubted his brother's ability to defend himself against those scumbags. Of course he could do that. Murphy had balls of steel, Murphy didn't need him. But Connor needed Murphy, needed to see him, and if he didn't see him then he needed to know that his younger half was safe.  
  
He had always been far more obsessed with his twin and he had always felt the need to secretly mother-hen him whenever he could. He knew that Murphy wasn't safe in here, in solitary, in this prison, he knew that they needed to be together to survive this. Not only so they could watch each other's backs, but also because they physically couldn't take a separation that lasted longer than a week. If Murphy kept going like this then it would break them sooner or later, and they both knew it. Trouble was that this knowledge made the younger MacManus even more reckless, violent and angry, which made everything just worse. It was an endless vicious circle.

As Connor watched how his yelling twin was taken away from him his eyes met the ones of Juan Castillo, who had been watching the whole fight from the table which he considered his domain. He was the worst of gangster them all, because he was like an exact copy of the older MacManus. He just happened to use it for the dark side. He never really showed any reaction and always seemed calm, but one could just tell that his brain was coming up with all sorts of plans. _Fucked up_ plans.  
  
He was just as twisted as Connor, just as much out for blood, and he certainly enjoyed using his skills and authority to kill people and let them suffer. Mendez happened to be part of his gang, which had been the reason why the older MacManus had been even more furious when Murphy had started the fight, the fight that started _everything_.

When their eyes met Juan started grinning at frowning Connor. He nodded at the door through which they had dragged Murphy out, and then made a slicing motion across his own neck. The blonde's blood ran cold when he saw that gesture. Once again his heart and entire body got filled with nothing but hatred and disgust.  
  
He narrowed his eyes and just stared back at the man, trying not to look intimidated or scared at all. But he knew what it meant. He knew how fucked up gangsters like Castillo were. The gang wanted his brother dead, and just for a second he agreed with Murphy's silly idea. They needed to kill every last prisoner.

Because he hated them, because they were all a danger to them, to Murphy, because they all _deserved_ to die. Connor kept staring at Juan and clenched his fists so hard that his nails actually cut his palms. His eyes kept piercing and piercing until even the tough gangster opposite him stopped smiling. Maybe he was a bit intimidated by Connor, maybe it made him just as deadly serious, but both men understood what was going on.  
  
This meant war.

* * *

_**now...** _

Daryl and Connor were watching the door to the entrance hall of their cell block. It had taken the group a couple of minutes to relocate injured Herschel and bring him back to their cells, and it was the friends' job to keep an eye on everything now that the group was busy and prisoners were on the loose. Daryl positioned himself close to the door and behind one of the cafeteria tables, then he put an arrow in his crossbow and took aim at the dark hallway. Connor was standing on the other side, a bit closer to the exit, both guns ready to shoot.

"I'm telling you, 've got a bad feelin about those fuckers" he murmured after a while.

They could hear the group of prisoners roaming through the corridors. Daryl just snorted.

"Seriously, you've got to stop it with yer bullshit. What've I told yah? Yer saint bullshit ain't worth crap now.  
They're prisoners, so what? We got it covered."

"'They're prisoners, so what?' Are ye fucking kidding me?" Connor muttered and both men glared at each other.

They didn't have time to discuss the issue, because right then the prisoners decided to enter their hall, with Tomas and the slim African-American up front. They all turned their heads and eyed the hall floor to ceiling, and when they wouldn't stop walking Connor undid the safety of his Berettas.

"That's far enough."

Tomas smirked and pointed at the door behind Daryl.

"Cell block C. Cell 4, that's mine, gringo. Let me in."

Daryl just looked at him, crossbow pointed at the prisoner's head.

"Today's your lucky day, fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go."

Connor shifted and glared at Tomas, who wouldn't stop coming closer.

"Well, we'll see about that" he murmured and the other man eyed him head to toe with a snort.

"Sorry, you were sayin? Yah even speak English? How about you go back to the end of the rainbow, and me and my buddies we're gonna go back to our block? What you got going in there?"

Connor just glared at him.

"It ain't none of your concern" Daryl spoke up to keep the two from fighting, but Tomas grabbed his gun nevertheless and pointed it at the hunter.

"Don't be telling me what's my concern" he growled and Connor darted forward, pointing one of his guns right at the prisoner's head.

"Put the fucking gun down and stop pointing it at him or you're dead."

"Chill, man! Dude's leg is messed up. Besides, we're free now, why are we still in here?" the large African-American said.

Connor and Tomas glared at each other for a little while longer, and when the latter saw that Daryl was still pointing his crossbow at his head he lowered his gun.

"Man's got a point" the hunter agreed and the other member of the group spoke up as well.

"Yeah, I gotta check on my old lady."

Tomas wouldn't stop glaring at Daryl this time.

" Group of civilians and a bunch of psychos who've just broken _out_ of prison breaking _in_ to a prison they got no business being in? Got me thinking there ain't no place for us to go."

"There ain't no place fer a scumbag like you anyways" Connor growled and wouldn't stop glaring at the man he was still pointing his gun at. Daryl moved closer.

"Why don't you go find out?" he joined in, threatening the prisoner with his crossbow even more.

"Maybe we'll just be going now" the man with the beard and blonde hair said and put his hands up.

"Hey! We ain't leaving!" Tomas spat and Connor pressed his gun to his temple.

"You ain't staying either."

Tomas suddenly moved and pointed his gun at the Irishman's head as well.  
Daryl darted forward and pointed his crossbow at him.

"Hey hey hey! Drop the gun right now!"

"This is my house, my rules. I go where damn will!" Tomas spat and Connor narrowed his eyes.

"Aye, how bout you go straight t'hell you piece of shit?"

"How about you go there first, mick?" Tomas yelled and undid the safety of his gun as well.

"Put the gun down now!" Daryl spat and the other prisoners apart from the blonde drew their weapons as well.

Tomas snorted and looked at both Daryl and Connor.

"Or what? You think we're scared of Robin Hood and his leprechaun boyfriend?"

"Alright, that's it motherfucker!" Connor said and was just about to pull the trigger when Rick came running in.

"Hey hey hey hey! Everyone relax! There's no need for this!" he shouted and came to a halt right next to Daryl.

He placed a hand on both the hunter's crossbow and Connor's gun and pressed their arms down.  
The Irishman withdrew with an angry growl and kicked one of the tables.  
Tomas was now eyeing all three of them, until he fixed his eyes on Rick.

"How many of you are in there?"

"Too many for you to handle" Rick answered and glared at the prisoner.  
  
Daryl wouldn't keep his eyes off them, but moved closer to Connor in the meantime.

"Are yah insane? You trying t'get us killed?" he whispered and his friend snorted.

"Oh, fuck off. I ain't got time fer any of this sensitive talk bullshit with those prison scumbags."

"Why don't you take your wounded guy to a hospital?" Tomas asked their leader and the members of the Atlanta group looked at each other for a moment. Connor returned his gaze to the prisoners and took a closer look at them, now that it wasn't so dark anymore. Once again he couldn't stop looking at the blonde prisoner, who had his arms folded over his chest and who was shaking a bit. He seemed rather nervous, even a little scared in fact.  
  
Connor then turned his head to eye the other three remaining members of the prisoner group. Tomas was a no go. He was absolutely sure. The man was a ticking time bomb, and he just knew that sooner or later the guy was going to mess things up, that sooner or later he would _have_ to kill him. Connor turned his head and looked at Daryl and Rick who were explaining to the prisoners that life as they knew it had ended a long time ago. The Irishman sighed and looked at the others again. He just knew that he had to kill at least one of them sooner or later. Whether the others wanted it or not. The Irishman listened up when they started talking about what had happened inside the prison.

"A riot broke out. Never seen anything like it" the large African-American said and the nervous blonde prisoner nodded.

"Like Attica on speed, man."

"Ever heard about dudes going cannibal, dying, coming back to life? Crazy" Tomas said and looked at his inmates.  
  
"One guard looked out for us, locked us up in the cafeteria. Told us: sit tight, threw me this piece" he went on and showed them the gun, then he kept pointing it at Connor. "Said he'd be right back."

The other African-American prisoner nodded.

"Yeah, and that was 292 days ago."

"94 according to my cal.." the blonde tried to correct him, but Tomas interrupted him mid sentence.

"Shut up!" he spat and the other fell quiet, looking at him in surprise and then staring at his feet.  
This made it very obvious who was the small fish and who the bully. Connor narrowed his eyes and decided to concentrate on Tomas for now.  
He would have to think about the other prisoners later.

" We were thinking that the army or the national guard should be showing up any day now..but.." one of them went on and Rick sighed.

"Yeah. Half the population's been wiped out. Probably more."

No one said anything for a while and especially the prisoners seemed shocked and devastated. Tomas snorted after a moment.

"Ain't no way."

"See for yourself" Rick answered and pointed at the door that led outside.

* * *

They were on their way out with the prisoners up front when Daryl placed himself next to Connor again, who wouldn't stop pointing his gun at Tomas' back.

"Will yah knock it off now, you dumbass? Yer putting the whole group in danger with yer crap."

The Irishman snorted.

"I ain't the dangerous one here."

"We don't know shit 'bout them. Just look at them. Two giants, one grandpa, one beanstalk and Mr all hat and no cattle, they ain't no threat to us."

"Prisoners are always a threat, Daryl. All of 'em. Ain't no reason fer them ta be in here otherwise. And you fuckin saw this guy.  
Swaying his gun around and threatening both me 'n you. Especially fucking me. "

Daryl frowned.

"Well, you dumbass wouldn't stop provoking him, so don't be all surprised now. Just calm down for once. Rick'll sort it out."

Connor snorted once more.

"Yeah, I'm so sure about that" he murmured and walked faster.

As soon as the prisoners were outside they started looking up at the sky, some of them seemed very happy in fact.

"Damn this sun feels good" said one of them and stretched his legs and arms.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see these fences" Tomas joined in and Connor shook his head with a snort.

"Yeah and that's damn right were ye belong. Behind them, you fucker" he murmured and earned a kick from Daryl.

Tomas didn't seem to have heard the Irishman's comment, he kept walking and eyed the prison yard. Just watching him made Connor cringe. He could see how the prisoner was making his way down the yard, walking like he owned the place, like he was the toughest of them all. The Irishman fought the urge to take aim and blast the guy's head off, because it reminded him way too much of the prisoners they had been with inside the Hoag. Especially that fucking Castillo guy. Tomas was almost EXACTLY like this man and all these _oh so tough_ gangsters.  
  
They had been walking around just like that when had tried to get between him and Murphy. Guys like Castillo who had almost killed his brother more than once inside the prison. He felt so much hatred all over again, to an extent where he was quite surprised himself. For the past year he had been so caught up with running from walkers. So many things had happened, Murphy's death, his depression, his suicide attempt, his recovery, the bite, the immunity... So many things had happened that he had almost forgotten about his past.  
  
What it had been like to live a "normal" life, what his former beliefs and morality had been about. All those years he had spent shooting bad guys, and most importantly, how much he had hated guys like Tomas. He had forgotten all about that for the past year, but now it was all coming back with such a force and so much hatred and darkness inside him, that it scared him a bit. Whenever he was looking at Tomas he could feel it boiling inside, the urge to kill. The urge to take revenge.

"You never said. How the hell did you get in here in the first place?" the slim prisoner asked and snapped Connor out of it.

He turned around to look at the man. Daryl was the one who answered.

"Cut a hole in that fence over there by that guard tower."

The prisoner turned his head to see where he was pointing, and Connor got closer to Daryl.

"Ye don't need t'tell them shit about us, man. Stop it" he hissed and Daryl snorted.

"Oh, fuck off."

"That easy, huh?" the prisoner asked and Daryl shrugged.

"Where there's a will there's a way."

"Easy for you to say."

Connor chuckled angrily.

"What, just because ye were t'stupid t'break outta prison? Yer fault, dumbfuck. Damn right where there's a will there's a way" he said and started walking again.

"Connor. Knock it off" Rick demanded and gave him a death glare.  
  
The Irishman put his hands in the air and shook his head. He walked away and headed for the fences.

The largest member of the group of prisoners poked one of the corpses on the ground with his pipe.

"So what is this, like a disease?" he asked and looked at Rick.

"Yeah, and we're all infected" the former policeman answered and the prisoners looked at him.

Connor reached one of the fences and leaned against it with a sigh.

"More or less" he murmured and kept an eye on their surroundings.

He had pulled up the sleeves of his leather jacket by now, because it was way hotter outside than inside the cool prison buildings. He watched the walkers on the other end of the property, but after a moment he couldn't stop staring at the scar on his left forearm. When he turned around again he saw how the slim prisoner was staring straight at him, with wide eyes fixed on his arm.

"What do you mean infected? Like AIDS or something?" the man with the beard asked and folded his arms again.

"If I was to kill you, shoot an arrow in your chest, you'd come back as one of these things" Daryl answered and pointed at one of the bodies.

"It's gonna happen to all of us" the hunter went on and Connor looked away again.  
  
_Not all of us_ , he thought and scratched his arm.

"Ain't no way this Robin Hood cat and is responsible for killing all those freaks" Tomas said and pointed at the bodies.

"Must be fifty bodies out here!" his slim inmate joined in and nodded.  
Tomas moved closer to Rick and Connor got back to the group as well, simply because he didn't like the idea of them being too close to any of them.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Atlanta. Connor's from Boston" Rick said and looked at the prisoner.  
  
The other man kept coming closer.

"Where are you headed?" he went on and Connor had enough.

"That's none of yer fuckin business. One more step.."

"Nowhere" Rick spoke up and placed a hand on Connor's chest to push him back.

Tomas eyed the former policeman with a smirk, then he nodded to his right.

"I guess you can take that area down there near the water. Should be comfortable."

Connor snorted.

"Aye. Fer you, asshole."

"We're using that field for crops" Rick said and Tomas nodded once more.

"We'll help you move your gear out."

"We said we ain't leaving!" Connor spat and the prisoner turned his head to look at him, grabbing his gun tight while doing so.

Rick looked up to face Daryl and gave him a slight nod after a while. The hunter nodded back and moved to get his friend.

"Come on, better watch that fence over there. Think I saw something" he said and grabbed Connor by his arm. The Irishman snorted.

"Yeah, af course."

"Just leave Rick to it. He's our leader, not you."

"We took out these walkers. This prison is ours" Rick said and gave in to an intense stare down.

"Slow down, cowboy" Tomas said and the slim prisoner moved forward.

"You snatched the locks off our doors!" he said and placed himself next to Tomas.

"We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it" Rick countered and the prisoners snorted.

"This is our prison. We were here first."

"What, locked in a fridge like scared little bunnies? Do us a favor and fuck off" Connor answered and walked back, despite Daryl's tries to keep him away from Tomas.

"We took it, set you free. It's ours. We spilled blood" Rick said and came closer.

"We're moving back into our cell block" the prisoner growled and moved closer to Rick.

"You'll have to get your own" the former policeman said.

"The thing is ours now. Deal with it" Connor joined in and Tomas gave him a death glare again.

"It's mine! I've still got personal artifacts in there, that's about as mine as it gets!" he spat, pulled his gun and pointed it at Connor's head again.

Rick and Daryl drew there weapons. Connor just looked at the muzzle of the gun and smirked.

"Woah woah woah! Maybe let's try to make this work out so everybody wins!" the blonde with the beard tried to reason with both of them.

"I don't see that happening" Tomas growled and Connor nodded.

"Neither do I."

"I ain't going back in that cafeteria for one more minute."

"I could kill you if that makes it easier fer you. It's either that or you just leave. No fucking in between" the blonde went on and Tomas gave him a look like he was just about to murder the Irishman himself

"Just leave" Daryl, who was pointing his crossbow at the man with the gun, growled and looked at both me, now that he was freaing a fight between the men.

"Try your luck out on the road."

Tomas just stared at Daryl and the look on his face made Connor laugh.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Are ye scared? Don't wanna go out there because af all those scary monsters walking around?  
Not such a tough gangster now, huh?"

Tomas turned his head to look at the Irishman, and when no one of the Atlanta group would drop their weapons he finally backed off.

"If these pussies can do all this, least we can do is take out another cell block for us" he said and looked at his group.  
  
The largest prisoner frowned.

"With what?"

"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons. Won't you, boss?"

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"You wish."

Rick looked at them for a while, then he put a hand on Connor's shoulder to pull him back.

"How stocked is that cafeteria? It must have plenty of food. Five guys lasting almost a year?"

"It sure as hell don't look like anybody's been starving" Daryl observed and Connor grinned at him.

"There's only a little left" Tomas said but Rick shrugged.

"We'll take half. In exchange, we'll help clear out a cell block."

The slim prisoner shoved Rick.

"Didn't you hear him? There's only a little left!"

"Hey! Hands off!" Connor growled and pointed his gun at his head. Tomas pointed his gun at Connor again, but Rick stepped between them.

"Bet you got more food than you got choices" he said and looked them straight in the eye.

"You pay, we'll play. We'll clear out a block for you, then you keep to it."

It was quiet for a while, and Connor felt uneasy about the whole deal. He didn't want those prisoners in here with them.  
He wanted them _gone_. He moved closer to Rick with a frown.

"Rick, are ye sure that.."

"All right" Tomas interrupted him, and Rick ignored the Irishman. He stepped forward and looked at the prisoners.

"Well, let's be clear. If we see you out here anywhere near our people, if I so much as even catch a whiff of your scent, We will kill you."

The two men glared at each other for a while until Tomas nodded.

"Deal."

Rick nodded and turned around.

"Alright. Let's keep moving."

The others started moving as well. Except for Connor and Tomas.  
They were glaring right at each other, until the Irishman shook his head and gave the prisoner a smirk.  
He moved closer until their noses were almost touching.

"Yer as good as dead" he said and looked the prisoner in the eye for a little longer, then he turned around and went after his group.


	11. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 2 " _Sick_ "

_**Boston – The Hoag, January 2008** _

It was kitchen week and also the first day Murphy was allowed out of solitary. Both twins were put in the same shift, because the shift supervisor happened to be a fan of their work and wanted to do them some good. Connor had been excited for this all week. He had almost died because of the separation from his twin. They had always known that they were far more codependent than other siblings, but they had never suspected that it really was _so_ intense.  
  
Back in the old days, when they had not been in prison yet, they had been perfectly fine with being apart for a couple of hours or days, although they prefered to stay together anyway. But now everything was far from fine, and every single solitary confinement made the pain worse, because they were not used to being a person of their own. It was always Connor AND Murphy, hardly just Connor or just Murphy, and this was showing now.

The blonde MacManus kept staring at the door as he sorted all the plates and put them in the large automatic dishwasher. _It was ten freaking past two, so where the hell was Murphy?_ _He was supposed to start his shift at two, and this was also supposed to be their reunion after one week of being apart. So where was that little bastard?_ He counted the plates as he put them on the conveyor. One. Two. Three. Four...Twenty, twenty-one.. Connor looked at the clock again. Eleven past two.  
  
_Jesus fucking Christ._  
  
After plate number 243 the door finally opened, revealing another bunch of inmates and then Murphy finally, _finally_ entered the room as well. Connor's face lit up instantly and he let go of the dirty dishes. He approached his twin with that broad smile, but Murphy didn't smile back. Maybe there was a faint smile, but other than that he just looked pissed, exhausted and tired.

"Well look at ye, as dashing as ever, brother" the blonde greeted his twin and put an arm around him to hug him and pat his back.

"Fuck ye" Murphy muttered in his shoulder and didn't want to hug back at first, but then the relief eventually kicked in.

He wrapped both his arms around Connor and hugged his twin back. The other man chuckled and rubbed his brother's back.

"Are ye alright, Murph?"

"Aye" the younger twin muttered and let go, but when Connor looked at him he saw that Murphy certainly _wasn't_ alright.

But the blonde didn't want to ask just now, because the other prisoners were watching and there was no time for showing affection and worry. Both MacManus twins turned around to get back to sorting the dishes, and once Connor had made sure that no one was watching he put a hand in his prison overall and nudged his sibling.

"Tsk, Murph" he muttered and Murphy looked at him.

Connor kept staring at the prison guards who were keeping watch but pulled out a whole bunch of cigarettes.

"I got those fer ye" he muttered and put them in his twin's pocket.

They weren't allowed to smoke in here, but the older twin had been waiting for this all week. He knew that it had been Murphy's fault when he got locked up in solitary, and he had been mad at his brother and at the guards because of that, but now he wanted his twin to have a little something, to relax and calm him down after all the fights and being alone and all the shit that had happened for the past week. Murphy felt his pocket and looked at Connor with an angry frown.

"Where te hell did ye get those? Are ye fucking mental, I don't wanna be locked up again cos of yer shit" he growled and eyed the guards nervously.

It was one of those bastards who couldn't stand them and did not understand their mission, and there certainly was nothing like sympathy going on here because of that.  
Connor hushed him and grabbed another bunch of plates.

"Shut it. I won them in a fucking card game. People are dull as fuckin bricks as here. I found a new bunch of assholes who don't know bout my skills with te cards yet."

Murphy snorted and shook his head. He still didn't get how Connor could do all that, trade with prison scumbags or even interact with them and form some sort of business relationship, but somehow his twin always did it. He was the one providing them with what they needed. Smokes, information, even alcohol.  
  
Back in the old days Murphy wouldn't have thought anything about it because this was the way they worked, how Connor worked. But now it just pissed him off and made him jealous. Because somehow his twin didn't have any problems with fitting in here, coming to terms with being locked up. He didn't seem to mind the bars, the aggression. He kept to the rules, both the prisoners and the guards' and he had even earned some respect and got some extra treats.

And then there was him, Murphy, the trouble maker, the one that got into fights and got locked up in this fucking tiny and inhumane solitary cell all the time. Right now he was jealous of his brother because of that, and he even hated him and his stupid fucking cigarettes. He didn't want to be treated like a fucking child all the time. But it was well true that he needed a whole bunch of smokes, which was why he wouldn't throw them in Connor's face.  
  
He just stared at the dirty plates and sorted them with mixed emotions. On the one hand he was so incredibly glad and happy to be with Connor again. He hated solitary more than anything, because he was not used to being alone and he needed his twin with him. On the other hand he was annoyed by his twin for obvious reasons, how the blonde could be just standing there with a bright smile on his face as if everything was alright whereas he felt like shit. Both men kept sorting the dishes and just for a moment it felt like they were back at work at the meat factory again. But this wasn't the plant, and this wasn't their job any more. They had a new job, and it pissed him off how Connor seemed to forget about that.

"I earned us pizza. I did all yer shifts, means I did twice as many shifts and worked my ass off fer that" the older twin went on and Murphy let out an angry snort.

"Fuck yer pizza, how about yer start working on a plan how ta get us fuckin outta here?" he growled and Connor eyed him with a frown.

"Fuck's wrong with ye, I didn't get ta see ya fer a week and ye greet me with that fucking attitude?  
Thanks Murph, thanks very fucking much" he said and started to brood.

Murphy looked at his twin and let out a sigh, then he concentrated on the filthy plates again.

"I killed Mendez" he muttered after a while and his brother stopped working to stare at him.

"What?"

The younger MacManus nodded and looked at one of the guards.

"Aye. Martin helped me. Got me outta my cell and inside his. We made it look like a suicide, then he locked me in me cell again like nothin happened."

Connor stared at his twin with wide eyes.

"Murph, are ye fuckin mental?" he hissed and hit his twin's shoulder.

"He just fuckin ran inta you, ye retard! If ye keep going like tha they'll put ye in this fucking cell ferever!  
We didn't plan this through, how could ye do this without me and think..."

"Did yer know that he raped five teenagers and fuckin slit the throats af two of them? He's part of that fucking Castillo gang, Martin and the others think they're up ta something big, they want them gone. 's not exactly easy when there's no death penalty anymore."

Connor pressed his lips together and didn't know what to say to that. He was too shocked, too angry, too scared.  
Because he remembered Castillo's silent threat, and now Murphy seemed to make everything worse and even more dangerous and likely.

"So while you were busy earning us fucking treats and pizza I continued Da's work like everyone expects us ta do in here.  
And yer better off doing te fucking same Connor."

The older twin let out an angry snort and threw the plates on the conveyor, and that so hard that they nearly broke.

"Yer acting like a fucking child, Murph. If ye keep doing tha we'll never get outta here, ye dumbass. I thought we're a fucking team."

"No, if _you_ keep going on like this we'll never get outta here. I mean look at ye!  
Trading fuckin cigarettes with those scumbags, kissing the guards asses ta get pizza, 's almost like ye belong in here!"

"I've been working my ass off with Eunice and Smecker ta come up with a plan while ye were sitting on yer ass just cos they locked ye up in this fucking cell. And that happened just because yer acting like a fucking teenager because someone stepped on yer toes once! So who's the one putting fucking stones in our way?"

They were both hissing at each other and only minutes apart from a fight, and no matter how much they tried to keep it low, the other prisoners and guards were already getting interested in them, which was why the twins let go with an annoyed growl. Connor and Murphy kept working for a very long while without saying a single word. This way not just the others lost interest in them, the twins also got the opportunity to cool off and calm down after their fight.

"Are ye really working on a plan with Eunice and Smecker?" Murphy muttered once he had made sure that no one was listening any longer.

Connor nodded but wouldn't look at his twin.

"Aye. Should it work out, then we'll be outta here by June."

Murphy turned his head to look at his brother. Now this sounded more like Connor.  
This was his twin, making plans instead of getting used to being in here.  
The younger MacManus nodded and grabbed another plate.

"Good" he murmured and Connor nodded as well.

"Aye."

Silence. Murphy eyed the guards and prisoners, then he noticed another member of Castillo's gang.  
He remembered everything the guard had told him about their plans, their crimes, their ideology.  
The dark-haired MacManus leaned in to be closer to his brother.

"Gives us enough time ta take Castillo and his asskissers out" he muttered.

Connor looked at his brother but wouldn't say anything. Murphy stared him right in the eyes and gave him _that_ look.

"We gotta take those prison scumbags out. Every last motherfucker that's got anything ta do with that asshole. Ye know we gotta.  
We gotta kill those prisoners before they can harm anyone else, Connor."

* * *

"Pantry's back here" Tomas said as they made their way back inside the cafeteria to get the food.

Even now Connor wouldn't put his gun down, despite all the looks Daryl was giving him.  
He was just waiting for Rick to give him a sign, and he just knew that sooner or later he was going to get it.  
He knew that he needed to take out those prisoners no matter what.

"You never tried to break out of here?" T-Dog asked as they entered the dining hall.

"Yeah we tried to take the doors off. But if you make one peep in here, then those freaks'll be lined up outside the door growling, trying to get in" Oscar, the quiet African American explained to the group who slowed down and took another look at the cafeteria. Connor had his eyes glued on Tomas who left the room to get to the kitchen. When the prisoner was no where in sight the Irishman put his gun away and sighed.

"Windows got bars on there that he-man couldn't get through" Oscar went on.

"You won't find me complaining. Doing 15. My left leg can barely fit on one of those bunks" the largest member of their group threw in and shrugged.

Connor heard Daryl snort and turned his head to look at his friend. He couldn't fight a smirk either.

"Yeah, they don't call him Big Tiny for nothing" Oscar said and looked at Rick, who seemed to follow the conversation but didn't seem too interested.

"You done jerking each other off? Sick of waiting back here" they heard Tomas ask and turned around.

The man was standing by the entrance to the kitchen and looked at them in a way that made Connor cringe all over again. The more time they spent with Tomas and his attitude, the more he hated the prisoner. Once again he could feel his fingers itching, desperate to grab his gun and just pull the trigger. He hated that he had to keep to the group's rules now just so they wouldn't throw him out.  
  
The Irishman placed a hand on his gun just to feel its cool weight, contemplating the idea for a second. _Didn't he want to leave the group anyway?_ He had told Daryl that he just wanted to stay until he had made sure that everyone was safe and that there were no more real threats for them. And now they had found the prison. He had thought about it over and over again for the past two nights. He had kept telling himself that as soon as they were done cleaning out the prison he'd be gone.

Simply because there were so many reasons. The fact that his own immunity was scaring him, that the group had changed so much over the past couple of months, that they didn't seem to want him with them anyway, that he hated to follow anyone's rules that didn't go with his own personal beliefs and values. This whole situation was a perfect example.  
  
His own rules and values told him to shoot Tomas right here and now. No second chances, no questions, no doubt. But the rules were different. Because Rick was their leader now, Rick made the big decisions. For just a second Connor was really about to draw his gun and shoot the prisoner. Simply because he wanted to get kicked out, wanted to follow his own rules again.

He turned his head to look at Daryl who was making his way inside the kitchen. Just looking at his friend made him hesitate again. In the end he knew he had to follow the rules, simply because he didn't want to leave Daryl just yet. Because his friend wanted to _stay_ here. But at the same time this face made him furious all over again. This face and Tomas' attitude.  
  
And just for a moment this wasn't about this prison and those prisoners and Daryl, it was about Juan Castillo who had been so much like the man who was standing in front of him now, and it was about everything Castillo had done to Murphy. Connor clenched his finger and nearly pulled the trigger because of that incredible hatred for Castillo, for Tomas, for every prisoner and everything they had done. But Daryl kept staring at him and shook his head, and somehow that reversed the spell.

 _This fight ended a long time ago. This isn't about Murph anymore. It's about Daryl and this group. He likes it here_ Connor tried to remind himself.

It was hard to calm down, but he forced himself to do it. The Irishman sighed and relaxed his hand, then he followed the rest of the group inside the kitchen as well. The members of the Atlanta group looked at the supplies with wide eyes. The whole storage room was filled with shelves upon shelves of boxes, canisters, bottles and bags of food as well as countless canned products. "Fuck me" Connor gasped and wanted to enter the room, but Tomas tried to block his way. The Irishman turned his head and gave the prisoner a death glare, but before any of them could speak Daryl entered the room as well and took a look around.

"This is what you call a little bit of food?" he asked and gave Tomas an annoyed frown.

The other man looked at him and Connor used the opportunity to walk past the man.

"Goes fast" Tomas defended his previous lie and Daryl snorted.

"Mm-hmm" he murmured and looked at Connor, who was checking out the shelves on the other side.

The Irishman looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. Daryl did the same and they both shook their heads with a snort.

"You can have a bag of corn, some tuna fish..." Tomas said and Rick stepped forward.

"We said half. That's the deal. What's in there?"

Neither Connor nor Daryl paid attention to what Rick and T-Dog were discussing with the prisoners. They were too caught up with checking out the supplies. They didn't even know anymore when they had last come across that much food. Especially Connor and Daryl had been starving sometimes, so they welcomed the presence of supplies even more.  
  
The hunter was searching one of the top shelves when a long package fell in his hands. He took a look at it and chuckled. "Hey, leprechaun" he said and Connor, who was searching the other side of the room, turned around and looked at his friend questioningly. Daryl flashed him the package with a grin and the Irishman widened his eyes. "Fuck me!" he exclaimed and approached his friend to grab it. The hunter wouldn't give it to him right away, he kept it out of Connor's reach for a little bit longer just to tease him.

"Give it t'me ye fuckin bastard!" his friend complained and Daryl snickered.

" Fucking chimney" he murmured and gave the Irishman the pack of cigarettes he had found.

Tomas was busy laughing at Rick when he saw them.

"Hey, were did you get those, asshole? Those are mine!" he said and stepped forward, but Daryl placed himself between the two of them and glared at the prisoner.

"We take half, remember?"

Connor opened one of the packs with an excited grin and lit a cigarette right away.

"Aye and by half we mean I get te whole fuckin package."

He exhaled loudly and groaned, obviously enjoying his smoke way too much.

"Damn this feels good!"

Tomas turned around to look at his fellow inmates and the rest of the Atlanta group, seemingly pissed off by now. He wouldn't say anything anymore, he just glared at Connor instead. The Irishman looked at the smoking cigarette in his hand with a happy grin, then looked up to face Tomas. Daryl had backed off by now and started getting things out of the shelves so T-Dog could carry them to their cell block, and Connor used this chance to get closer to the prisoner with a mischievous smirk on his face.  
  
"But hey, now that I think about it.." he said and took a long drag on his cigarette.  
  
Daryl turned around to see what was going on. He frowned when he saw how close Connor was to Tomas.  
The Irishman blew some smoke right in Tomas face.

"It's not like we don't share, aye?" he said and started chuckling when the prisoner blinked and coughed because of the cloud of smoke that was surrounding him. Without a warning he darted forward and shoved Connor against the shelves behind him, yelling and insulting him all the way through. He started kicking and punching the Irishman who was still laughing and fought back just as hard.  
  
Daryl and Rick were on Tomas in a matter of seconds and pulled him back. Connor was still laughing because it had been so easy to provoke the criminal, but when Daryl gave him a death glare he finally stopped. The Irishman shook his head and turned around to get some supplies as well. "Just trying t'make new friends" he murmured but couldn't fight the smug smile that broke through.

* * *

"Food's here!" T-Dog announced when Carl opened the door for them.

Everyone was carrying bags and boxes of food they had been given.  
Rick's son watched them enter the hall with a big grin on his face.

"What you got?"

"Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans" T-Dog answered and headed for one of the many empty cells to store their supplies.

Connor was right behind him and nudged Carl on his way in.

"Loads af food fer yer Ma, yer brother, you, everyone" he murmured with a cigarette in his mouth and followed T-Dog to get rid of his boxes as well.

"There's a lot more where this came from" Rick said and smiled at his son as well.

Connor was busy piling up his boxes in the cell when Daryl entered the room with two bags of corn.  
The Irishman grinned at him and put the box he was holding down so he could grab his cigarette and talk.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Just look at that" he said and pointed at all the boxes and bags.

"A sight fer sore eyes. Means we don't have ta eat any of yer squirrel shit any longer" he said and nudged his friend, but Daryl wasn't returning the smile at all.

He didn't seem cheery or happy, he was just glaring at him in a way that made the Irishman snort.

"Oh come on, you and yer bitchface all te time. Get that stick outta yer ass and brighten up. This shit's a good sign!"

Daryl put the bags down and snorted.

"Yeah, and the fact that yah nearly screwed it up for all of us don't mean nothing."

Connor frowned angrily.

"I didn't screw up shit, te fuck are ye talking about?"

Daryl growled and came closer so he could shove him.

"I'm talkin about you acting like a fuckin prick on steroids for the past hour, always fucking shit up with this macho, picking up fights and asking for a bullet between your eyes!"

Connor shoved him back.

"Like ye ain't picking up any fights! Who's the one always going macho on me?"

"What's that got to do with it? At least I ain't trying t'get anyone killed!"

The Irishman frowned even more.

"And I fucking am?"

"Of course you are! Rick and me we're trying t'get things under control with these guys, get them away from us and get things in return, and all you've done is fuck shit up with this asshole!" Daryl spat and shoved his friend once more.

"Fuck you! I was just doing it t'protect our group, to make it very clear that they don't stand a chance against us, and that they don't ever dare to think that they can fuck with us!"

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"This ain't about this group. You're just making shit up here. This is about the fact that they're prisoners, that they're some criminals, and yah just needed t'see their uniforms and yer whole Saints bullshit kicked in. You don't want t'protect this group. This is all about you. You're just provoking them so you get a chance t'go psycho on 'em and kill 'em."

Connor snorted as well and turned around to sort the supplies again.

"Don't talk bullshit."

"Yer the one doing and talking bullshit here!" Daryl yelled and kicked his friend's behind.

Connor turned around again and shoved him hard, so the hunter was thrown against the wall.

"Fuck you! Because it ain't fair!"

Daryl frowned.

"What is?"

"That this asshole is still alive in this world, acting like he's the boss and deserves any of that shit, the prison, all the food.  
It ain't fair that scumbags like him get t'breathe whereas my brother had t'die bloody!"

Both men glared at each other for a while. Connor sighed and shook his head.

"Fuckin hell, man" he murmured and turned around again. Daryl folded his arms and sighed..

"The world ain't ever fair. Never has been. Never will be. Get over it."

"Yeah, what do ye know. You grew up with a scumbag family, no wonder you don't give a shit."

"Of course I give a shit! I want this group t'be safe as well! Do you think I don't wanna put an arrow in this asshole's head?"

Connor turned around again to look at his friend.

"Then why don't we just do it? You and me. You still got my gun. We could go out there and put a bullet t'his head."

Daryl snorted and folded his arms.

"What are yah, stupid? I ain't doing that. You know the rules. Besides, how many times do I have t'tell yah. I ain't yer brother.  
And you ain't turning me into him."

Connor shook his head and started sorting boxes again.

"Screw ye, yer such a fucking coward."

Daryl just watched his friend for a while. It wasn't like this sort of talk hadn't happened before. It had just been a while since they had last talked about something like this. Connor's brother, his past, everything that pissed him off. It almost felt like the prison brought out the worst of the Irishman again, because it reminded him of everything, reminded him of his past and the loss of his brother. For months Connor had been fine with him, because they had been far too busy surviving on their own. And ever since they had returned to their group they were also getting back to their old habbits, all the things they had been through on the farm.

"It's been months, man" Daryl muttered and Connor ignored him.

"He died a year ago. Yah need to let go."

"Fuck ye" Connor growled and Daryl sighed. He headed for the door and then stopped to look at his friend again, who was still sorting boxes.

"No matter what you do, he ain't coming back. Killing them ain't gonna make it right" he said quietly and saw how Connor stopped, but the Irishman wouldn't say anything. Daryl chewed on his lower lip and waited for a bit, but when no answer would come he turned around and left the cell.

* * *

They all gathered around a table in the dining hall of cell block C so they could hand out weapons.

All sorts of pipes, knives, crowbars and baseball bats were lined up on the table, and each prisoner took a weapon except for Tomas.

"Why do I need this when I got this?" he asked and showed them his gun with a proud grin.

"You don't fire guns, not unless your back's up against a wall. Noise attracts them" Daryl said and glared at the prisoner.

Tomas raised an eyebrow and pointed at the Connor's Berettas.

"Then why are you caring guns?"

"We all do. You never know. We'll go in two by two. Daryl will run point with Connor, I'll bring up the rear with T" Rick said and gave Andrew, the slim prisoner, who was holding on to his axe with a smile on his face, a slight nod. He nodded and seemed so fond of his weapon that it made the Irishman suspicious again.

"Stay tight, hold formation. No matter how close the walkers get, anyone breaks ranks, we could all go down. Anyone runs off, they could get mistaken for a walker, end up with an axe to the head" Rick explained and Daryl stepped on Connor's foot.

"Listen up" he murmured and his friend kicked back.

"Shut up."

"And that's where you aim" Rick went on and pointed at his head.

"These things only go down with a head shot. Just like anything" Connor said and looked at Tomas while doing so.  
  
The prisoner snorted and glared back.

"Ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man."

The Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"Why, know from experience?"

Tomas gave him an evil smirk.

"Sure do."

Everyone fell quiet and looked at Tomas, and especially Connor would give him a death glare again.  
So Tomas really was a murderer. His fate was sealed. Rules there or not. T-Dog broke the awkward silence then.

"They ain't men. They're something else."

"Just remember to go for the brain" Rick reminded them and started walking.

Daryl nudged Connor so they could get up front. Tomas still had both his eyes fixed on the Irishman, then he finally grabbed one of the weapons as well and followed them to the dark corridor. Connor was well aware of the fact that the prisoner was right behind him, with a large knife in his hand.

"You don't have t'tell me. Oh I will go for the brain."


	12. Dead Or Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 2 " _Sick_ "

**_Boston – The Hoag, January 2008_ **

It was their forth day inside the kitchen when it happened. Connor was always careful, always watching, but even he didn't see that one coming. They were with thirteen other prisoners and two guards inside this part of the kitchen. Only two of the others were part of Castillo's gang, or so the brothers thought. It happened in a blink. So fast that the MacManus twins couldn't do anything about it.  
  
In a matter of seconds four prisoners suddenly started walking and headed right for the two guards, making it impossible for the men to get their guns in time. The four prisoners grabbed the men by their arms and started kicking and punching them. They then took their handcuffs to cuff them. Connor and Murphy were too busy watching it happen and trying to stop them to notice that other prisoners were right behind them.  
  
Connor didn't get a chance to scream or fight back since two of the largest and muscular prisoners were already on him and beat him a couple of times. Murphy was faster and more agile than his brother, now seemingly alarmed by what was happening. He knew exactly what was going on, since another two criminals, which were the ones who were part of Castillo's gang, were heading for him with evil smirks on their faces.

"Fuck off! I'll kill ye!" the younger MacManus yelled and grabbed a dirty bread knife from the dishes and backed off to the far wall of the kitchen.

When he stared in the guards' direction he could see that the men were lying on the ground now, with bloody wounds on the back of their heads.  
The prisoners were closing in on him while Connor started kicking and yelling to get his attackers off, and soon Murphy found himself cornered.

"Let 'im go! Ye sick fucks! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you if ye touch him!" he heard Connor yell and started swinging the knife around to protect himself, but of course, that wouldn't work. One of the prisoners used the opportunity when the younger MacManus turned his back on him to threaten the others. The bald and heavily tattooed man darted forward and put Murphy in a headlock, while another one managed to grab the bread knife and rendered their victim defenseless.  
  
Murphy started kicking and wailing just as much and loud as his brother, which made the whole gang laugh at them.  
The prisoners obviously enjoyed what was going on, how they had managed to overpower and take the Saints of South Boston hostage.  
Just like that.

"Bring him over here, big boss wants him to watch" said one of the prisoners who were holding Connor.

The ones who were holding Murphy looked up and started grinning, then they dragged the struggling younger MacManus all the way across the kitchen until he was standing right in front of his older half. Both brothers looked at each other in surprise until Murphy started kicking and struggling and yelling all over again, making everything just worse.

"Rumor is your brother killed Mendez. Strangled him to death in his cell. Is that true, MacManus?" the man to Connor's right asked with a big grin on his face.

The other man started choking the blonde just a bit more to stress what was being said.  
The older twin tried to turn his head to look at the man who was talking to him.

"Go to hell" was all he said and turned his head in horror when another prisoner said "Do it."

Just a second later something what looked like a dishtowel was being wrapped around Murphy's neck and the men started to pull. The younger MacManus started struggling and made the most horrible choking sounds, and that snapped something in his brother's head. Suddenly Connor was kicking and yelling and struggling so hard that the two men had real trouble holding him in place.

"No! I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking kill you! Let him go!" he screamed as loud as he could and turned into an animal.

Murphy was struggling just as hard but couldn't yell or breathe, as the two men behind him kept strangling him with the towel.  
The large prisoner who was holding Connor suddenly looked at the men opposite him and nodded.

"Alright, that's it for now" he said to the bald man who had been strangling Murphy.

When they let go of him the dark-haired twin sucked in as much air as he could get.  
The bald guy chuckled and grinned at Connor.

"Not such a calm and relaxed guy now, huh?"

"Fuck you! Let 'im go!"

"I'm gonna kill yah!" Murphy joined in but started coughing.

His throat ached from all the strangling, and a second later the prisoners were already on him again.

"Is this how you did it? Put something around his throat? Did you kill him, you sick little bible-banging fuck?" the bald man said in the younger MacManus ear.

Murphy kept staring at his brother in both terror and disgust. He was so angry and horrified because of everything that was happening to him even with Connor being so close to him. He could almost touch his brother, and looked like his twin was just as desperate to get to him, but the prisoners wouldn't let them.  
  
The dark-haired MacManus tried to turn his head to see where the surveillance cameras were. He knew that guards were watching this and that they were probably already on their way, but he was not sure if he was going to make it until then.

"Fuck..you.." he gasped and tried to reach out for something to protect himself, but his consciousness was already fading.

Connor's yelling and fighting got more desperate and furious with every second he was being strangled right in front of his eyes.

"Okay, stop" the large guy demanded once more and they stopped, leaving Murphy out of breath and coughing all over again.

He was still trying to stay strong, but Connor had already reached his breaking point. It was well true that his twin brother was a tough guy. He jumped off buildings, ripped toilets out of the ground and always went down last during their fights. Shoot him, torture him, cut him, he doesn't give a fuck. But he had one weakness, one tiny problem that made him break easily, and those bastards had found it.  
  
They started strangling Murphy once more and this time even harder, to a point where he was actually being lifted off the ground. Apart from the obvious pain and panic the younger of the brothers was actually pretty annoyed by the whole thing, because the whole repeating it over and over again made it pretty ridiculous. He understood that this wasn't about just killing him, it wasn't about him at all in fact. This wasn't about breaking his neck, it was about breaking Connor's silence and will first. And they had already achieved that.  
  
His older half had stopped threatening the prisoners and was actually begging them now, and it was damn typical. Now he was offering himself, now he wanted to get hurt, get killed, just to keep him safe. Connor, that crazy, suicidal stupid idiot. They stopped strangling Murphy again and were now properly laughing at the twins, and the large man with the long hair got closer to Connor until he was almost whispering in his ear.

"Now this is going to be fun" he said and chuckled, but Connor used the closeness and headbutted him right in the face, making the prisoner's nose bleed.

"I'll kill you. Every last fucking one of ye" the blonde growled and glared at the remaining prisoners, and just for a second there was nothing of the joking and cheerful Irishman left. Once again Connor seemed to be nothing but a furious animal, who was sure capable of killing every last man in this room with his bare hands if only he got the chance to free himself.  
  
Murphy was just as furious, especially now that he was getting so sick of being the victim all the time. This was the second time in just a couple of years that he was being used just to get a reaction from his twin. The second time Connor had pissed of some violent fucks and _he_ had to pay for it. The large prisoner had recovered from the attack by now and grabbed Connor by his hair, forcing him to stare at Murphy.

"Take off the kid's pants. With the knife" he demanded and the younger MacManus widened his eyes in sheer surprise.

He never would have thought that the whole thing could lead to _this_.

"No! Don't you touch him you motherfucker!" Connor roared and lost control again as he watched another prisoner get closer and closer to his twin, who was also being strangled again. The new guy was holding a knife in his hand and kept grinning and grinning as he got closer, obviously enjoying how helpless and defenseless their victims were right now. The knife was only inches away from Murphy's belly when the whole scenario suddenly changed.  
  
With a loud _bang_! One of the prisoners who held Connor was being knocked off his feet, a second later the large guy with the long blonde hair followed. The older MacManus gasped in surprise as he found himself free to roam and turned around to see what was going on. Three other prisoners were standing right behind him, people he had not noticed before. One of them was holding a large frying pan, which he seemed to have used to knock out the two prisoners.

Connor didn't know their names but he was vaguely aware of their crimes. He believed that they were a small gang of thieves and car smugglers, certainly not the hard caliber like Castillo's gang. The Irishman didn't have any time to thank them, because right then he launched himself at the man with the knife who was threatening his brother.  
  
All hell broke loose as the other prisoners joined in and started fighting the remaining members of Castillo's gang, and seconds later Murphy was free as well. Especially the two MacManus twins lost it during that fight, as they kept punching and kicking their attackers as hard and mercilessly as they could. They managed to kill three of them before other guards finally stormed inside the cafeteria and separated the fighting mob. And as they were being escorted out of the room Connor found himself walking right next to the man who had saved him with a frying pan.

"Thank you" was all he could say, and although he was quite surprised that he was actually thanking a criminal he still meant it.

The man and his other fellow prisoners had probably saved his brother's life, there was no point in denying that.

"Don't mention it, bro. Fuckers killed one of our crew. We're on your side. You do the right thing. We got your back.  
Someone's gotta take out the real sick fucks. Ain't got no place in our neighborhood for that."

* * *

**_now..._ **

Daryl stayed on the left side of the corridor, whereas Connor stayed on the right side. He was getting tired of all the dark hallways, but he knew that they had to clear out the prison and find medical supplies for Herschel. The Irishman worried about the old man. He doubted that he was going to survive, he had experienced the fever himself after all. He knew that they were talking about such freakishly high temperatures that it was just impossible to survive.  
  
Normal people who weren't immune couldn't survive this. But even after knowing all that he still wanted to help. Simply because those people had helped him as well when he had needed them. Daryl turned around the corner and signalized that it was clear. The prisoners were right behind them, and Connor still felt annoyed by the fact that Tomas was right behind him. He was just waiting for him to jump on him, so he could finally put an end to all this. And he sure as hell would be the one to walk out of that fight alive.

"Man, it's too damn dark in here" Oscar complained and Connor hushed him.

Daryl stopped walking and looked at the large prisoner.

"Gotta hold it up high, out in front of you" he said and nodded at Oscars axe.

"You're gonna hear them before you see them" the hunter went on and Connor chuckled.

"And smell 'em."

Daryl growled.

"Shut up, Connor."

The Irishman shrugged and held his knife up higher, too.

"Just sayin"

They walked around another corner and Axel startled.

"It's coming!" he shouted and Connor hushed him loudly.

"Shut te fuck up, dude, We told ye, noise attracts those bastards!" he hissed and glared at him.

He could see that the prisoner was scared, he was even shaking a bit. When the Irishman turned around he could see that Daryl was waiting for him to cover the front again, and there was an amused smirk on the hunter's face. Connor couldn't fight a smirk as well and shook his head.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he murmured and walked back to his friend. Daryl moved a hand up and signalized that the group should wait.

They could hear the awkward gasps and groans of walkers who were obviously very close.  
A second later they could see the shadows of two walkers on the wall.  
Connor wanted to walk ahead and start killing them, but Daryl placed a hand on his chest.

"They don't need to know" he growled and nodded at the prisoners.

His friend rolled his eyes and was just about to get into yet another argument over his immunity, but the hunter wouldn't have any of this. Daryl turned his head and looked at the prisoners, counting up with his fingers. He hadn't even shown them his second finger when the whole group darted forward and started yelling. Connor was thrown against the wall when Tomas shoved him away.

"Eh! Watch yer fuckin step ye.." he complained and wanted to punch him, but the whole group of prisoners was long since gone.

They started attacking the two walkers with their weapons, yelling all the way through. Connor adjusted his clothes with a growl and went back to Daryl, and together with Rick and T-Dog they just watched the prisoners with a confused frown. They could see how they were stabbing the walkers stomachs over and over again.  
  
Oscar and Andrew threw one walker to the ground and started kicking him and beating him with a baseball bat. Big Tiny held the other walker in a tight grip so Axel and Tomas could stab him. The undead was growling and fighting, but couldn't do anything against it. No one of the Atlanta group would say anything, they just watched them with a disgusted frown.

Connor felt even more disgusted. It wasn't the first time he saw how prisoners went crazy on someone, especially the stabbing and kicking rang bells. It wasn't like he was someone who couldn't be violent, he had gotten into many fights and killed many people after all, but he just couldn't understand how someone could just stab someone's guts like a complete nutter instead of just killing them.  
  
That was just insane and fucked up, and reason enough for him to kill people who acted like this. Because they were dangerous. He growled and stared at them, feeling the urge to kill them again. The prisoners eventually killed the two walkers, but the noise had attracted even more. They could hear how a bigger group of undead was approaching them, and when they saw them Rick finally spoke up.

"Get back to the group! Hold formation!" he hissed and the prisoners did as they were told.

"It's gotta be the brain" Daryl reminded them as he and Connor placed themselves in front of them.

The rest of the group stayed close to the wall behind them.

"Not the stomach, not the heart, the brain" the hunter said and shot the first walker in the head.

Oscar was the first to step forward. He bashed the head of the next walker in and stepped back so the others could get a chance.

"Like that?" he asked and Daryl nodded.

Axel was the next to go and kill a walker, and Connor used the space to move closer to his friend again.

"Well, yer telling 'em that, ye didn't go fer my brain either" he said and chuckled.

His friend glared at him. He still hated how Connor kept mocking him with that all the time. As if it would have been better if he had really killed him. He didn't get the chance to kick or punch his friend for that because the Irishman was the next to step forward.  
  
For a second Daryl just watched him, and was surprised that the walkers were still not attacking his friend. The walker looked at Connor for a second, but then tried to walk past him so he could attack the rest of the group. The Irishman stabbed his eye and put him to the ground. When he wanted to go for the next walker Daryl suddenly stepped forward and pulled him back.

"They don't need to know!" he reminded him once more and pulled his friend closer, so he had no chance to run away again.

He pulled him back to the wall again so the rest of the prisoners could kill the walkers.

"Let me go. Those fuckers are mine" Connor growled and tried to get back, obviously feeling some sort of blood lust again.

Rick was the one to go for the next walker then. He killed him with a blow to his head and stepped back as well.

"Stay in tight formation. No more prison riot crap. No more one man jobs" he reminded them and looked at all of them.

More and more walkers were entering the hallway, and soon the group started to work.  
They all started killing the undead, and after killing about four walkers Connor placed himself right next to Tomas.  
He knew that this chaos was his chance to murder the prisoner.

"This all you can do? I thought ye know how t'take out a man?" he yelled and started laughing.

Tomas glared at him for a second and stabbed another walker, obviously incredibly annoyed and angry now.  
Connor killed another two walkers, using his advantage that they didn't exactly attack him.  
He tried to keep them away from Daryl and Rick, who were standing to his right.

"I know how to take out a man!" Tomas suddenly yelled and swung his axe around so powerfully that he beheaded a walker and still had so much energy left that he hit Connor as well.

The Irishman yelped and grabbed his arm, looking down on himself in surprise. He could see that Tomas had managed to hit his upper arm. His leather jacket was torn where the axe had grazed him, and in a matter of seconds he started bleeding. He felt his arm in shock only to come to the conclusion that the cut wasn't too deep, but it still hurt. Connor narrowed his eyes at Tomas, who was obviously half panicking and half raging now.  
  
He suddenly grabbed a walker and shoved it right at Daryl, making it impossible for the Irishman to follow him. The hunter fell back with the growling and snapping undead right on top of him, and Tomas kept moving so fast that Connor couldn't take him out just yet. Since all the others were busy killing of the walkers in the hallway it was up to Connor to save his friend from a possible bite. In a matter of seconds the Irishman was on top of the walker and stabbed his head. He grabbed the undead by his prison overall and dragged him away to get a proper look at his friend, who was checking his arms and chest in surprise.

"Are ye alright?" Connor asked and did the same, and when Daryl nodded he gave him a hand to pull him back up.

For just a second the blonde's heart had missed a beat, because his friend could have been bitten just like that. He could have lost him in a heartbeat, lost him exactly like his brother. Just because of some stupid inmate they had found just an hours ago. And as the two men got back to their feet he suddenly felt that rage and hatred inside of him, to a point where he actually didn't care about anything anymore.  
  
The rules, the group, the fact that Rick had the say. He didn't care about cut on his arm. No, it was the fact that Thomas had threatened Daryl's life, and although Connor knew that he wasn't Murphy his brother instincts kicked in so violently that he could no longer control himself. He could feel how blood was running down the inside of his jacket as he grabbed his gun and undid the safety, but none of that mattered. In just a couple of seconds more blood would be flowing, and it certainly wouldn't be his own. Tomas needed to die. He tried to make his way past his fighting group so he could get Tomas, who was busy killing the last couple of walkers with Oscar.

Just when the Irishman was about to raise his gun and shoot the prisoner dead a loud scream startled them all. The group killed the last bunch of walkers and then started running to see where the scream was coming from. They could see Big Tiny standing there by the wall, with a walker behind him. Connor widened his eyes when he saw how Tomas raised his gun behind Rick.

"Rick!" he yelled and darted forward, but the prisoner already pulled the trigger two times. The walker that had attacked Tiny fell to the ground, and everyone looked at Tomas in surprise. Especially Rick was shocked, because he had almost been hit by the bullets himself. The two men stared at each other for a while, then everyone looked at Tiny, who was panting and felt the back of his shoulder. When he looked at his hand they could all see blood on it. Connor groaned.

"Jesus fucking Christ" he murmured and turned around to look at Daryl, who seemed just as surprised.

"Turn around" Rick demanded and approached the prisoner.

"It's just a scratch" Tiny murmured and tried to catch breath, but Rick was already beside him and turned him around.

The rest of the group got closer and took a look at the prisoner's shoulder as well.  
They could see a large bloody scratch on his back, and his clothes were ripped apart where the walker had attacked him.  
Big Tiny turned around again and looked at Rick with wide eyes.

"I'm telling you, I don't feel anything. It's just a scratch" he said and looked at the rest of the group.

Rick sighed and looked down to the ground.

"I'm sorry, man."

"I can keep fighting!" the prisoner yelled and Connor got closer as well.

"It doesn't matter. Ye got in direct contact with their stuff. As soon as it enters yer blood stream yer done."

"You cut that old guy's leg off to save his life!" Andrew protested and looked at Rick.

Their leader pointed at the prisoner with his flashlight and growled.

"Look at where the bite is" he answered and Andrew looked at Connor.

"Well, what about this guy? I saw that he got a scar of a bite wound on his arm, and he's obviously fine!  
Go! Show them your arm!"

The Irishman looked at him in surprise and snorted.

"I don't. Wouldn't be standing here otherwise" he murmured and startled when Andrew approached him and grabbed his left arm.

"Hey!" he protested and tried to shove him away. Daryl darted forward and shoved the prisoner, too.

"Hey, get yer mits off 'im!"

Andrew had still managed to move the sleeve of Connor's leather jacket up.  
The rest of the prisoners glared at his arm, saw the cross tattoo on it, and when the Irishman finally shoved the prisoner away the others saw it, too.

"See!" Andrew exclaimed and pointed at Connor's arm where they could see the scar all too clearly.

The Irishman growled and pulled the sleeve of his jacket back down.

"Bullshit" he murmured and looked at the rest of the group. Daryl snorted.

"Dream on, Jay-Z, you get bit and yah turn into those freaks, end of the story. Why d'you think it spread so fast?  
No walkers bit the leprechaun, I did. In a fight. Don't make shit up now. Yer friend is as good as dead."

"I'm fine! Just...I'm fine" Big Tiny yelled and looked at them. He tried to argue with Rick once more.

Connor snorted when Daryl placed himself next to him again.

"So, ye bit me in a fight?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Someone had t'make an excuse"

The Irishman chuckled.

"Well, I was just about ta do the same, I'd have told them that ye bit me cos ye were having such a great time when we were makin out."

Daryl snorted and shoved him.

"Jesus, could yah be anymore gay? Shut up."

Connor chuckled as well.

"Look, there's gotta be something we can do. We could just lock him up!" Oscar suggested and Daryl and Connor looked at the group again.

"Quarantine him!" Axel joined in and looked at them.

"We gotta do something. Why are you just standing there and laugh your ass off? We gotta save him!" Andrew shouted and Connor sighed.

"Look, buddy. 'm sorry. But that's te way it works. There's nothing we can do about et, all we can do is make it comfortable fer.."

He startled when Tomas suddenly darted forward and hit the back of Big Tiny's head with his axe. He looked at all of them for a second, then he fixed his eyes on Connor, who widened his eyes in surprise. For a second he thought the prisoner was going to attack him next, but then Tomas started attacking Tiny again, who was lying on the ground now. He wouldn't stop bashing his head in with his axe in an absolute violent way, and the whole group just watch him in shock. After a couple of seconds Tomas was completely covered in blood.

He stopped chopping after what felt like the fiftieth time and glared at Connor again, chest heaving and face stained with blood. The blonde's blood ran cold and he narrowed his eyes at him. The blood on the prisoner's face, Tiny's mutilated corpse, the cut on his arm and the fact that Daryl had been attacked by a walker, that was enough to seal the deal for Connor.  
  
He placed a hand on his gun, waiting for the right moment to raise it and pull the trigger. No one would say anything or notice that, as they were all busy looking at the mess Tomas had made. Tiny's head was bashed in, his face was completely destroyed. No one could believe what had just happened. Tomas finally stopped glaring at Connor and turned his head and glared at Rick instead. And this was all it took. In a matter of seconds Connor suddenly grabbed his gun, pointed it at Tomas' head and pulled the trigger.

"NO!" Andrew yelled, but it was already too late.

A loud bang rang through the corridors and startled the rest of the group, and with that Tomas fell to the ground, landing right on top of Big Tiny's bloody corpse.

For a second it was deadly silent and everyone was staring at Connor in shock. No one had seen that coming, because normally people listened to Rick and waited for his orders instead of doing things themselves. But Connor did not work like that, his rules were far more simple. Kill people and threaten his friends and brother and you are dead. The Irishman kicked the prisoner to turn him around, then he put his gun away with a huff.

"'s about time someone took that fucker out" he justified his action and adjusted his jacket.

When he looked up he saw that all the others were staring at him, and especially Rick and Daryl seemed angry. They didn't have any time to argue because Andrew started yelling again. He tried to attack Rick with his baseball bat but the former policeman was faster. He kicked the prisoner's leg hard so he fell to the ground, losing his weapon on his way down. Both Connor and Daryl reacted instantly when Axel and Oscar tried to move as well. Daryl pointed his crossbow at Oscar, Connor his gun at Axel.

"Easy now" the hunter growled and focused on the prisoner.

Andrew got back to his feet and glared at them all in horror, then he suddenly started running.

"I got him" Rick shouted and ran after him.

Connor widened his eyes.

"Rick! Ye can't go out there alone!" he shouted and looked at T-Dog.

"Cover him!" he demanded and ran after Rick and the prisoner.

"Leprechaun! Get your ass back here! This ain't any of your business!" Daryl yelled but his friend had already disappeared.

"Dumbass" the hunter growled and glared at Oscar.

"Man, get down on your knees!" he demanded and pointed his crossbow at his head. The prisoner moved his hands in the air and knelt down.

"We don't have no affiliation to what just happened. Tell him, Oscar!" Axel explained with shaky voice and glared at the other member of his group.

Oscar shook his head, with his hands still in the air.

"Stop talking, man" he answered and the other prisoner looked down. Daryl raised an eyebrow when he started sobbing.


	13. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 2 " _Sick_ "

  
  
by onetwopunch

  
  


_**Five weeks after the farm incident...** _

"Daryl!"

The yell down the corridor startled the hunter, who had been busy setting up their primary camp in one of the small offices of the fire station. Connor had gone off on his own to check out the rest of the building for a secondary sweep, and the sound of his voice told his friend that he had obviously found something. Daryl grabbed his knife and crossbow and got up on his feet, but not without having a look out of the window first. He could still see the small group of walkers that was staggering around the street in front of the station, as if they were aware of them being in here.

"Daryl! Get yer ass over here!" he heard Connor shout again and growled when he noticed that some of the walkers were turning in the direction of the doors of the station. Immunity and indifference aside, those undead bastards were still attracted by the noise Connor was making, and his friend happened to have _quite_ the organ.

"Shut up! I'm coming, yah moron!" Daryl shouted back, but not as loud as the Irishman. He could still hear the banging downstairs, and sooner or later they would have to come up with a plan on how to get rid of the walkers if they really wanted to stay in here. The hunter walked out of the room and entered the small hallway.  
  
The station really wasn't that big, maybe there were about six small offices, a locker room, the restrooms and one shower room up here, but that was pretty much it. The latter was the exact room he found his friend in, and Connor greeted him with a big grin on his face. Daryl searched the shower room for any potential threat or the reason why Connor had called him, but he couldn't see anything.

"What?"

"We got fuckin hot water here, dude" Connor stated and turned one of the showers on.

The gurgling and growling of the drain and pipes could be heard for a while, then the spray of water rained down, making the Irishman jump so he wouldn't get wet. He held a hand in the spray and kept waiting with a grin, and Daryl frowned even more.

"Bullshit."

"No, 'm telling ye, it's getting warm!"

The hunter approached the other man and reached out as well.

"I swear to fucking god, if that's another one of your shitty lies just to get me to do something stupid then..holy shit."

Connor giggled and moved his hand when both men noticed how the water was getting warmer and warmer.

"They had one of those old backup generators down there. There's some fuel innit, ain't much, but I got it ta work when ye were busy up here. Figured why not check te fucking showers?And look at that, gravity shower system. 's fucking brilliant that is. Can't even remember the last time I had a real proper shower" he said and let go to take a couple of steps back. Daryl enjoyed the warmth on his hands just a bit longer.

"Yeah, whatever. We still got a lotta work to do here and..hey, what are yah doing?"

The hunter stood there stunned when he saw how Connor started taking off his jacket, sweater and shirt.

"I'm having a shower right fucking now 's what I'm doing" the Irishman answered and started untying the laces of his boots.

Daryl turned the water off with an annoyed growl and frowned even more.

"T'hell you're doing, we ain't done here yet!"

"Fuck you! 'm sick of running around like a dirty fuckin hillbilly, I can almost peel the dirt crusts off my skin and 'm freezing my ass off. I got bit, I nearly died, I deserve a fuckin hot shower fer that and ain't no stupid fuckin dead prick stopping me from doing dat. Gimme a fucking break" Connor protested and stepped out of his boots so he could get rid of his jeans.

That was a bit too much naked skin for Daryl's liking now.  
Although it wasn't the first time he saw his friend in nothing but his boxers he still headed for the door with an annoyed growl.

"Don't use all the fuckin hot water" he muttered as he made his way out because truth be told, he wouldn't mind having a hot shower either.

It was getting colder outside each day, and Connor had a point about all the blood, dirt and other filth.  
Both men didn't just need a shower, they also needed a shave and the general hygiene they were still used to from their old society,  
although the Irishman was a bit more out for that than him.

Daryl used the time his friend was busy in the shower to check the upper level for any potential threats or supplies once more, and he found another unopened can of food and two bottles of water in one of the lockers. Other than that the fire station looked pretty much clear, if you didn't count the pile of dead walkers downstairs by the fire trucks. Connor and Daryl had not been able to drag them out and burn them since there were still too many walkers outside, but they hoped to resolve the issue the next day.

The positive thing about the station was that they could actually lock the door to the stairwell which led back downstairs, and they had also made sure that there were another bunch of emergency exists should they have to bail out quick. They could reach the roof and they could get out of the windows just like Connor had entered the building, and for the first time Daryl was actually glad that they still had his friend's stupid rope.  
  
It was a ridiculous thing to carry around, but right now it was also pretty useful, especially for making up extra escape roots. He was just done with his patrol route when he met Connor in the hallway. His friend still had wet hair but wore all his clothes again, and it was obvious that he had enjoyed himself very much. The short beard was gone and replaced with only one small line of stubbles down his jaw line and around his mouth, just like on his old picture.

"Yer turn. Don't drop the soap, Darylena" the Irishman said and grinned at his friend, who thanked him with a lazy kick to his shinbone.

"Fuck you."

* * *

He was busy rolling out their sleeping bags when he heard the yelling. Daryl hadn't even been gone for ten minutes yet when all hell seemed to break loose in the shower room. Connor was back on his feet in a matter of seconds and started running, and he couldn't hold back the terrified scream that escaped his mouth.

"MURPH!" he yelled as he ran down the corridor and tried to get to his friend as fast as possible.

Once again panic rushed over him as it reminded him way too much of that day in Boston, when his brother had been violently taken away from him. When he reached the restroom he found his friend in just about the same situation. He was buck naked, water still pouring all over him. He was fighting and shoving a dirty old undead man who was trying to bite his bare and wet arms, making it impossible for the hunter to grab his knife which was lying on the pile of clothes by the sinks. Connor grabbed his own knife and ran to grab the walker. He got drenched with water within seconds, but that didn't matter to him. He stabbed the back of the walker's head and threw him to the ground, and then both men watched the thick and almost black blood run down the drains along with the water.

The tiles in the shower room were a complete mess by now, stained with dirt and mud and guts and blood. Both Connor and Daryl were panting because of the shock and fight, and on top of that the younger of the two was also shivering and freezing because of the sudden lack of warm water. Connor kicked the walker just to make sure he was dead, and once he had made sure that his friend didn't have a scratch he suddenly burst out laughing because of the sight of a dripping wet and naked Daryl, who was trying to shield his manhood but also seemed furious because of the sudden walker attack.

"Well, I told ye not ta drop the soap, brother" Connor giggled and tried to nudge his friend's shoulder.

Oh, how he wished to have a camera with him, because this moment was pure gold right here.  
Not only did he want a camera, but also people he could tell about this story, but of course, they were alone and the situation was dead serious.

"What the hell was that about! I thought you checked everywhere!" Daryl yelled and shoved Connor back, only to make his way towards his clothes so he could put them on. He ignored the fact that the fabric stuck to his wet skin and just kept going, especially now that the whole situation was embarrassing enough. He hadn't meant to start screaming like that, the walker had just startled him when he had least expected it to happen. Of course Connor had to laugh at him now, that bastard. He wanted to bash his face on the sink.

"Aye, looks like I didn't see that one" the Irishman concluded and kicked the dead walker again.

He then made his way over to the shower to turn off the water, which was now freezing cold anyway.  
The Irishman was still giggling to himself although his friend was genuinely mad at him now.

"Look, 'm sorry about that. But ye get kinda sloppy when ye don't have ta fear an attack.  
Fuckers don't exactly come running at me any longer, so it's kinda easy ta miss some of them."

He turned around and stopped giggling when the blonde noticed all the scars on the hunter's back and front. He had already seen them just a couple of months ago when Daryl had fallen off the horse, and even back then when they hadn't really known each other yet he had still been shocked by the sheer amount and length of some of the scars. Daryl looked absolutely shredded, like someone had thrown him in a bathtub full of knives.  
  
And once again Connor felt nothing but guilt. He knew that it wasn't his fault, and that it had not been his job to protect his friend from this sort of abuse. But just for a moment he saw Murphy's back, not Daryl's, and this back was accusing him of the most inhumane things. _You didn't protect him from this. His back is supposed to be clean._ Connor shook his head with an angry frown and let out a frustrated sigh. They never talked about this, Daryl's past, the possible abuse. If they ever talked about the past, then it was Connor's, not his. But the Irishman still wanted to get it off the table, because he was getting sick of all this.

"Have you ever thought about covering them up with a tattoo?" he muttered and pointed at his friend's back.

Daryl looked at him through the large mirror and narrowed his eyes at him, but wouldn't say anything to that yet.

"'m just saying. I bet it would look neat. Certainly a whole lot better than this. And maybe it gives ye some peace?"

He wasn't very good at the whole delicately approaching a sensitive issue like this one. He knew that his friend hated to talk about this,  
that he did not like being touched or looked at there. And that was just being emphasized by how quickly he was trying to put on his layers of shirts.

"So what, that I can run arround with a massive psycho cross like you freak? Dream on. I already told yah, you ain't turning me into yer brother.  
Ain't no way 'm gonna run around with something like that on my back."

Connor folded his arms and just watched his friend through the mirror.

"I ain't talking about a Jesus Christ tattoo. I was just offering myself. I ain't so bad at that shit. 't was just an idea" he growled and then made his way to the dead walker to grab him by his legs and pull him out of the shower room.

As he bent over to get his feet Daryl turned around and stared at his friend's back. Although Connor was wearing a sweater and shirt it was like he could still see the tattoo on his back, he had seen it more than once after all. Although he didn't believe in any of Connor's god crap even he had to admit that it looked pretty badass, and he had secretly been thinking about something like that anyway.  
  
His friend had nailed it. He was getting sick of the scars on his back, hated how everyone was staring at him as soon as they saw them. He wanted them to disappear. The hunter bit his lower lip and then started buttoning up his shirt. Connor was just passing him with the corpse when he spoke up, but without actually looking at his friend. He still pretended to be extremely busy with the buttons of his shirt.

"Watcha thinking about then?"

* * *

_**now...** _

The corridors were an endless maze. Connor tried to run after Rick and the prisoner, relying on nothing but his hearing. He couldn't see a thing, all he could hear was the footsteps that were echoing through the halls. "Rick!" the Irishman shouted and searched the empty cells to his left and right, but the leader of their group was nowhere to be found. "Rick!" he yelled once more and almost wanted to give up when he heard the creaking of a door to his left. He could hear excited talking not too far away from him, so he started running again. He finally reached the dining hall of cell block D and saw Rick standing there by the exit.

"Rick! Are ye fucking stupid, no fuckin one man jobs, ye said so yerself! It's dangerous out here. What about Lori 'n Carl?!" he shouted and approached the former policeman.

"Let me back in, man! Let me back in!" he could hear Andrew yell and widened his eyes.

He could see that Rick had actually closed the grille, and how the prisoner was desperate to get back inside.  
He could see walkers behind the man.

"You better run" he heard Rick say, then their leader closed the door shut behind him.

They could hear how Andrew started screaming and the walkers were growling on the other side. Connor just stood there in the middle of the hall and looked at Rick, completely in shock about what he had just witnessed. Rick was panting shakily and made his way back down the stairs when he finally noticed the Irishman. The policeman froze and looked at him.

"Connor."

The other man just looked at him.

"I said you're supposed to hold formation" he said and started walking again. The screams outside had stopped.

"What te fuck, Rick?" Connor said and pointed at the door the other man had just locked. Rick kept walking.

"Come on, we need to sort the rest out."

The Irishman turned around when Rick walked past him.

"Did you just lock that kid up with walkers?"

The policeman stopped walking and looked at him.

"It needed to be done."

Connor frowned angrily.

"Aye, I get that they were dangerous, I just killed one of 'em myself, but that is not how we fucking handle things."

Rick came closer and glared at him.

"Who says that this is not how we handle things?"

The Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"I am, obviously. I get that killing him was necessary, but it is absolutely fucking inhuman to let people get eaten alive. Evil bastard or not."

"It was the easiest way. Get over it. If you want to stay you better get used to it and start following our rules" Rick answered and looked the other man deep in the eyes. Then he turned around and headed back to the rest of the group, leaving Connor alone in the hall.

* * *

When they finally got back to the rest of the group they could see that T-Dog and Daryl were still pointing their weapons at the two remaining prisoners. Rick went straight for Oscar and gave the hunter a slight nod. Daryl retreated, and after making his way over the pile of bodies Connor walked over to his friend as well.

"What happened?" the hunter asked and looked at his friend, who was still glaring at Rick with an angry frown.

"I don't even know" the Irishman growled and kept an eye on their leader, who was pressing his gun to Oscar's forehead.

"We didn't have nothing to do with that" the prisoner said and kept his hands in the air.

Rick got closer and seemed extremely aggressive and blood-thirsty now.

"You didn't know? You knew! Daryl, let's end this now!" he yelled and turned around to point his gun at Oscar.

The hunter grabbed his knife and was on his way to Oscar when Connor shoved him back.

"Don't" he hissed and looked his friend straight in the eye.

Oscar was without any cover now, but he stayed where he was anyway.

"Sir, please! Please, listen to me! It was them that was bad. It wasn't us!" Axel sobbed and looked at Rick in panic, obviously completely terrified of the gun that was being pointed at his head. Connor and Daryl turned their heads to see what was going on.

"Oh, that's convenient" Rick growled and shook the gun to make it clear that he was about to pull the trigger.

"Connor, what the fuck" Daryl murmured when he tried to get to the other prisoner but his friend still wouldn't let him.

He hated that he wasn't able to obey Rick's orders, he wasn't such an insubordinate troublemaker like his friend after all.  
Connor kept shoving him away but wouldn't stop looking at Rick for a while, then he turned his head and looked his friend straight in the eye.

"I gotta cover that bastard" Daryl said and pointed his knife at the prisoner. Connor gave him an angry frown.

"Oh come on now, don't go all obedient lap dog on Rick, fucking open yer eyes fer once. You really wanna listen ta someone who's doing shit like this?" he hissed and pointed at Rick, who was still threatening crying Axel.

Daryl snorted.

"What'd you do just a moment ago? Ain't any different now. You wanted them dead."

"But not like this!"

"You saw what he did to Tiny. He was my friend. Please, we ain't like that. I like my pharmaceuticals, but I'm no killer. Oscar here, he's a B and E and he ain't very good at it neither. We ain't the violent kind, they were! Please, I swear to God! I wanna live!" Axel sobbed and Connor had enough.

Daryl wouldn't stop frowning.

"Yah just took out one of them and now you want to protect their asses? Let me through" the hunter demanded but the Irishman shoved him back once more.

"Aye. I killed that other fucker because he was dangerous, but look at them, they're small fish and I think we killed enough people today. I believe him" he muttered and eyed Axel, who was really losing it by now.

The Irishman had always kind of suspected that Axel and Oscar weren't really dangerous, simply because he knew a real dangerous criminal when he saw one. About an hour ago he had almost forgot about his former good intentions, had seen nothing but red when he had first met the prisoners. He now remembered that not every criminal needed to die. He and Murphy had always looked for people who hurt others, and he knew that killing everyone that committed the slightest crime was just hypocritical.  
  
He and Murphy had stolen some cars in their life as well to get their mission to work. Especially nowadays it would be stupid to kill everyone and everything that has done something immoral, simply because there weren't many living people left anymore. Just for a second he had forgotten that not every criminal was out to kill people or hurt them. Back at the Hoag he had experienced that first hand.  
  
Maybe Oscar and Axel were just like the people who had saved Murphy. Weak mislead souls who had done shit and the real evil bastards had used them for their purposes. And now that he heard the prisoner begging for his life in tears his former values and beliefs were coming back to life, and the sheer hatred was completely forgotten. He knew what was wrong and right again, and watching Rick threatening a man who was obviously begging for mercy was completely wrong. He stopped shoving Daryl and approached Rick.

"Alright that's it. Rick, give 'em a fucking break" he said and placed himself in front of Axel, who was completely breaking down and crying now.

The Irishman glared at the former policeman who looked back at him just as furiously.

"We killed three of 'em already, don't ye think that's enough? Just look at that fella. I know dangerous people when I see 'em.  
He might be a complete pathetic little nutjob, but he ain't no real threat ta us."

The Irishman turned his head and looked at T-Dog.

"Come on T, lower yer fuckin gun. We don't even really know why they're here."

The other man looked like he really wanted to, but he looked at Rick and waited for his instructions instead.  
Rick wouldn't say anything. Axel looked at Connor.

"Thank you" he sobbed.

Rick just looked at Connor for a second, then he turned around and pointed his gun at Oscar instead.

"What about you?"

"I ain't never pleaded for my life. And I ain't about to start now. So you do what you gotta do" Oscar said and looked Rick straight in the eye, obviously less scared than Axel. The leader of the Atlanta group didn't move for a very long while. He was still pointing his gun at the prisoner's head, thinking about what to do. No one would say anything and held their breath until Rick finally lowered the gun. Axel was still sobbing in the background. Rick turned around again and walked past Connor. He grabbed the crying prisoner by his clothes to pull him back on his feet.

"Cell Block D it is" he growled and started walking.

* * *

Once Daryl had opened the door Rick shoved Axel inside cell block D. The prisoner looked at all the bodies on the ground, all the former prisoners that had turned into walkers and had been shot in the head, with their hands still cuffed. All the dead were lying on the ground, in a perfect row in front of their cells.  
"Oh, man" Oscar said as he entered the cell block as well. Axel seemed completely shocked.

"I knew these guys" he said with shaky voice and looked at the dead bodies.

"They were good men" he went on and Connor snorted tiredly.

He looked up at the ceiling just so he didn't have to look at the prisoners.  
Yes he had practically saved their lives, but that didn't mean that he thought that they were _good_ men. Good men didn't steal. Good men didn't get locked up in prison for nothing. But at the same time he just shook his head, because once again he was being a hypocrite. Good men also didn't kill, and he had killed tons of people. Right now the Irishman was just tired of this whole thing, because his whole ideology still didn't really fit in this world anymore.

"Let's go" Rick said and started walking. Oscar looked at him and frowned.

"So you're just gonna leave us in here? Man, this is sick."

"We're locking down this cell block. From now on, this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave it. That was the deal" Rick answered and left the room.

Connor and Daryl looked at each other, then the Irishman started walking as well.  
The hunter was on his way out when he stopped walking and looked at Axel and Oscar.

"You think this is sick? You don't wanna know what's outside."

"Consider yourselves the lucky ones" Rick said from the other side of the door. Connor snorted.

"Yeah, yer lucky we didn't blast yer head off yet" he murmured and stopped walking to see why Daryl wasn't coming yet.

"Sorry about your friends, man" the hunter said and finally left the block as well.

* * *

Daryl found Connor outside. The Irishman was sitting on one of the prison yard benches with his back turned on him.  
The hunter let his gaze wander to make sure that no walkers were around and once he knew for sure that everything was clear he made his way to his friend.

"There you are. No one saw yah anywhere, people already thought you left" he said and heard Connor snort.

When he got closer he could see all the blood on his friend's left upper arm, and the Irishman was obviously taking a closer look at the wound just now. Daryl walked around the bench so he could stand in front of his friend. He snorted when he saw that the Irishman had a cigarette in his mouth.

"If yah keep smoking like that the pack'll be gone in a couple of hours. You should hoard that shit."

"Shut up" Connor murmured and grabbed an old whiskey bottle. Daryl didn't even want to know where he had gotten it from.

"Where the hell were yah? Herschel woke up. Everyone was there except for you dumbass."

Connor grabbed his cigarette and blew out some smoke. He gave Daryl one and sighed.

"Searched te infirmary fer needles and so on. I gotta stitch it up. Fucking wound won't stop bleeding" he murmured and looked at the cut on his arm.

Daryl looked at it as well and raised an eyebrow.

"T'hell happened?" he asked and put the cigarette in his mouth. Connor offered him the lighter.

"Fucking prison scumbag, that's what happened" he friend answered and then started stitching the cut together with an awkward hiss.

Daryl could see how much trouble his friend had with the injury, since he could hardly reach it with his other arm. The hunter took a drag on his cigarette and just watched him for a moment. He came to the conclusion that Connor needed help, so he sat down next to his friend. He grabbed the needle and took a look at the wound.

"What te fuck?" Connor said and looked at him with a frown. Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Come on, don't be such a princess" he murmured and cleaned the wound once more. Connor raised an eyebrow and watched him.

"What, first yer giving Carol a massage, now ye go all touchy touchy on me, what's te matter Darylena? Ye like t'cuddle now?"

Daryl put the cigarette in his mouth and pricked his friend harder than necessary. Connor twitched and hissed.

"Ow, I got bones there, ye know?" he complained and Daryl smirked.

"Looks like yah got an infection going on there" he murmured when he saw that the veins around the wound were darker.

Connor took a drag on his cigarette and looked at the walkers on the other side of the fence.

"Aye, fucker hit me with his axe right after he killed a walker. There's still blood on it" he murmured and Daryl froze.

"What?"

Connor turned his head and smirked at him.

"So just so ye know, in case I start puking all over ye tonight, it's not only because yer so ugly."

Daryl glared at him.

"This ain't funny."

"Nah come on. It's a little bit funny."

The hunter looked at the wound again, swallowing hard.

"Yah sure that there was walker blood on it?"

Connor nodded and exhaled.

"Aye. Dude did that on purpose. Right before he shoved the walker at you. Why do ye think I killed 'im."

Daryl poured another dose of whiskey over the wound and started stitching it back together.  
He wouldn't stop eyeing Connor nervously every once in a while.

"What are we gonna do 'bout it?"

The Irishman shrugged.

"Nothing. 's not like 's gonna kill me."

Daryl slowed down and chewed on his lower lip.

"Hope so" he murmured and his friend chuckled.

"How adorable, she's worried 'bout me" he said and grinned at his friend.

"Don't worry Darylena. 'm gonna be fine."

Daryl growled and hit his shoulder.

"Shut up. I already told yah, that ain't funny, man."

Connor sighed and looked at the wound.

"It's definitively different this time. I mean af course it's different, I didn't get bit this time, but..I mean I can feel it, but it feels more..controlled."

"Does it hurt?" Daryl murmured and wiped some blood away. Connor laughed.

"Believe me, ever since _that_ night I'm practically immune ta pain as well. Really.  
Nothing can ever live up to that sorta pain I went through that night. Course it hurts, but I've been through worse."

Daryl finished up the stitches and put the needle away.

"There. Yah gonna live" he said and Connor took a look at it. He smirked and pulled the sleeve of his shirt back down.

"Lousy job" he said and flexed his arm experimentally.

Daryl turned around so he could look at the walkers on the other side of the fence.

"Fuck you" he answered and took the whiskey bottle to drink.

He gave it to his friend and shook his head. _Damn, he wasn't used to it anymore_.  
When he turned his head he saw that Connor drank it like water. He snorted and shook his head.

"What happened between you'n Rick?" he asked after a while and Connor stopped drinking. He shook his head and scratched his nose.

"Nothing" he answered and his friend raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure looked like _nothing_."

Connor snorted and looked at the bottle in his hands.

"Did he get mad atcha for doing yer Saints crap instead of him handling things? Did you kill Andrew as well?"

Connor frowned and looked at his friend.

"No. And I didn't do my saints crap. And that's not te point"

"Didn't you guys shoot them in the head?"

"Aye, but I didn't put pennies in his eyes after that. Didn't even wanna" Connor murmured and looked away.

Daryl frowned and grabbed the whiskey bottle so he could take another sip.

"Yah got any pennies here, dumbass? What are they worth now anyway?"

The Irishman rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Wasn't even te worst. I couldn't say te prayer. _That_ was our Saints crap."

Daryl looked at him and wiped his mouth.

"Yeah, I remember that thing. Dominus omnibus or whatever.."

Although Connor felt slightly worried and disappointed in himself he couldn't hold back a laugh at this.  
He looked at Daryl and started laughing again.  
The hunter frowned angrily.

"T'hell yah laughing at, dumbass" he murmured and Connor shook his head. He covered his eyes and chuckled.

"Dominus omnibus" he repeated and laughed even more.

Although Daryl didn't know what he had done wrong, he couldn't fight the smirk that broke through.

"What? Yah were prattling about that all the time."

Connor hit the back of his head and chuckled once more.

"It's in Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti ye idiot. Not fucking omnibus."

"Sounds the same t'me. Who cares" Daryl murmured and drank some whiskey.

Connor shook his head with a smirk on his face and took the bottle back.

"So what happened with Rick?" the hunter asked again and his friend sighed.

"I saw how he locked that kid up with walkers. Kinda looked like he enjoyed himself there. And ye saw how crazy he got with the other two.  
Like he literally just _wanted_ t'kill someone. Guilty or not."

Daryl shrugged.

"He locked 'im up, so? That asshole tried t'kill us."

Connor frowned and looked at his friend.

"Just cos someone does shit it doesn't mean ye have t'let them go through some fucked up slow and painful death."

The hunter snorted.

"Says the guy who executed loads of criminals with his guns and some freaky prayer."

"Exactly. I always shot 'em. Because I knew I wouldn't be any better than them if I started torturing them or some sick shit like that.  
And I didn't put pennies in their eyes fer nothing" Connor growled and threw his cigarette away.

" He told me that he's the boss and that if I want ta stay I should get used to the way he handles things" he went on and Daryl nodded.

"Yeah. You're part of this group now, and we ain't alone any longer. Rick knows what's best for the group. He's right, better start working together."

Connor snorted and looked at him.

"Like you? Go Daryl, fetch this fer me Daryl, kill these people fer me Daryl, feed my wife fer me Daryl...  
And you jump and fetch, no matter what he says."

The hunter narrowed his eyes at him.

"It ain't like that" he growled and grabbed the bottle from Connor to drink.

"Aye, sure."

The Irishman muttered and started cleaning the rest of his arm. It was quiet for a while and the two men just shared a drink until Connor spoke again.

"I found some old ink pen in one of the cells. We could do some more work on yer tat. 's gonna be dark soon, so there's nothing much to do anyway" he suggested and his friend frowned.

"What, out here? No way."

Connor chuckled.

"What? Why not? 's better light out here than in this shithole" he answered and pointed at the cell block.  
  
He tried to get his friend to take off his shirt, but Daryl fought him off with an angry growl and got up.

"They don't need to see it, dumbass."

The Irishman watched his friend with a frown.

"Jesus, aren't yer a fucking pussy these days" he muttered and took another sip on his whiskey.  
  
Daryl stared back at him with the same angry frown on his face.

"I ain't. It just ain't any of their business."

Connor snorted.

"So what, now that there are people around I ain't fucking allowed ta be closer than six feet just cos yer afraid of people's assumptions?  
It's not like they can't see yer other tattoos all te time."

The Irishman got up and grabbed his things so he could leave.

"I just don't want them to see my fucking scars, alright?" Daryl said and Connor stopped walking.

He turned around to look at his friend, who was standing there with a stubborn and almost childish pout.

"Aye, why do ye think I wanna fucking do this?"

Daryl growled and shifted from one foot to the next. He kept staring up the bridge that connected cell blocks D and C, where he could see Lori and Rick. Connor was right, he wanted to keep going himself, just not out here in the open.

"Let's go inside at least" he muttered and headed for the door.


	14. Inked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** between episode 2 " _Sick_ " & episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

_**Six weeks after the farm incident...** _

The slow and steady pricking of the needle was annoying the crap out of him. Not just because it was painful and way too slow, but also because it made him feel uncomfortable in general. He hated to be sitting here on this chair without his shirt, and he hated how that stupid leprechaun behind him kept touching his freaking back. Daryl didn't even know why he had said yes to that stupid idea, that stupid pattern, that stupid everything. He kept squirming and complaining every once in a while, and that was driving Connor just as nuts.

"Fuckin quit yer squirming, will ye. 's gonna fuck up my masterpiece" he growled and hit his friend's shoulder, which made Daryl even more furious.

"What's there to fuck up? Bet's gonna look just as shitty as the piece of crap on your back" he growled and Connor rolled his eyes.

"Fucking blow me, man"

"Yah wish."

Silence. Another couple of pricks, ink being released in skin.

"Did yah really mean it?" the hunter asked and Connor looked up.

"Mean what? That you should blow me? Totally."

Daryl rolled his eyes and tried to hit the man behind him. The Irishman dodged the blow and chuckled.

"That it looks cool, dumbass."

The Irishman sighed and grabbed a piece of cloth to wipe some of the ink from his friend's back. Even after half an hour of sitting together and working on the tattoo Daryl would still tense his muscles every time he was being touched, like his whole body still remembered all the pain some other hands had caused him on his back years before. It made his friend's heart ache although Connor would never admit that. He hated the whole thing just as much, because he was forced to look at the terrible scars all the time. The blonde nodded and then buried the needle in his friend's back again, which caused Daryl's to swallow another hitch of breath, now that it hit one of the scars.

"Aye. Got a fucking A in artistic shit. It looks great, man. Trust me. "

"And it covers them up?" the hunter muttered and Connor nodded again. He wiped the ink off Daryl's shoulder once more and looked at the ugly scars on his friend's back, that he was slowly trying to cover up with the tattoo they had agreed on. Of course, the Irishman wasn't going to tattoo the same thing on his Daryl's back like the one he had tattooed on his brother's back. No matter how much he liked the idea of that illusion, the tattoo had belonged to Murphy, and no one else was allowed to have that.  
  
Not even Daryl. They had agreed on something that they both liked, although the Irishman had to talk his friend into it. Maybe it was a bit cheesy, but he liked it, and so did Daryl. He was running around with that thing every day anyway. So they had agreed to use the wings from his leather vest and put them on his back. And it really looked better than they had imagined, and most of all: it was doing its job. It hid the terrible scars.

"Aye" was all he said and Daryl nodded.

"Good."

There was silence for a very long while as Connor kept working on the tattoo. Daryl was used to his friend being loud and annoying, but when it came to things like this then the Irishman was freakishly quiet and concentrated. The blonde didn't say a word and the hunter actually enjoyed the silence between them for a while. It was really weird to be like this all of a sudden. Just a couple of months ago he had tried anything to get away from the man behind him.  
  
He had hated Connor, he had beaten him, he had tried to run away from him, run away from the fact that they had an amazing chemistry. And this was exactly the point. They couldn't stand each other so much that they actually liked each other again. Daryl still hated to be touched or to be near anyone, but the fact that Connor was so goddamn stubborn and that the others weren't here to see the whole thing was a pretty big improvement compared to the farm.

He was actually getting used to it and didn't even mind it that much anymore. This was some strangely new territory, a part of brotherhood that he had never really experienced with Merle, although he had wanted to. The near, the caring, those were the things that were all too natural for Connor, considering that he had not just been a brother but a twin brother. The fact that he was sharing that with him now like it was the most natural thing in the world actually helped Daryl a lot, all the awkwardness aside.  
  
Although he knew that Merle loved him as his baby brother and liked to pretend that he really cared about him his real brother had never really shown that in such a physical way like the Irishman. The existence of the scars on his back told him enough about all of Merle's 'caring'. This bastard had never really been there for him. Just like now. It felt like Connor was always just inches apart, whereas his real brother was always entire towns away from him. And maybe this was a good thing right now, because he didn't want him to see this sort of thing.

"Can I ask ye something?" he heard Connor mutter and looked up, seemingly snaped out of his train of thoughts now.

"What?"

"How'd he do it? What'd he do ta you exactly?"

Daryl knew what Connor was aiming at, since he could feel how the Irishman was now crossing the largest of the scars on his back.

"Don't know what yer talking about" he growled and heard his friend sigh.

"I mean yer scars. What did yer Da do t'fuck yer back up like tha? Looks fuckin horrible, man."

The hunter shifted with an annoyed eyeroll and tried to keep the blonde from touching the scar.

"Same thing 'm gonna do t'you if yah keep sticking your nose in other people's business."

"Fuck ye."

"Keep going and shut up."

Silence. Daryl kept wriggling and rolling his shoulders every once in a while as he tried to relax, which was rather hard to do considering his friend wouldn't stop touching his back and he absolutely hated it.

"Ye know, I never thought I'd say this, but yer actually even more fucking impatient than Murph when I did his tattoo."

Daryl didn't say anything to that, because there it was again. The ghost in the room. Daryl just needed to hear this name and his blood ran cold. Just like he hated to talk about his own past he also hated to talk about his friend's, because it was obvious that Connor still wasn't over it. The crying had started again, although the Irishman had only just "buried" his brother's remains on the farm. He had witnessed it, he had believed that Connor was getting better on the farm, and then the bite had happened. And they were back to the same old shit, only that this time the blonde tried to hide it from him just like he had hid it from the group back at Herschel's.

Now it was happening in the middle of the night and more muffled than ever, or sometimes it happened when Connor thought he was alone. And whenever he watched his friend the Irishman would be staring at the red bite wound on his arm, and he didn't even need to hear it, he knew what Connor was thinking. _Why me and not him? Why did I survive this shit and he didn't?_ But they didn't talk about it, simply because Daryl hated it, and because they had more important things to do than all this whiny talk crap. Just because they were alone now it didn't mean he was going to let that stupid leprechaun make him a sissy who talked about his feelings.  
  
The Irishman kept talking anyway, but Daryl ignored him completely. The hunter stared out of the window instead and looked at the gray clouds. It was getting colder with every day that passed, and they were running dangerously low on food. The only good thing about the winter was that the walkers were also slower, but it wasn't like it mattered to Connor anyway. Daryl suddenly got up because he was getting sick of all his friend's talk about how he had once tattooed his brother's back once.

"We should go out and hunt before nightfall. Still got a couple of hours to do that."

Connor was still sitting on his chair, the tattoo pen in his hand and eyebrow raised.

"Te fuck, I thought we was gonna do yer fucking tattoo?"

"We got all winter, don't we? Ain't gonna starve to death just cos you can't shut up and work faster" the hunter muttered as he put his undershirt, shirt, sweater and leather jacket back on.

Connor scratched his nose and leaned his arms on the back of the chair he was still sitting on. He watched how his friend got dressed and chewed on his lower lip for a while, unsure if he should really ask or not. He came to the conclusion that he needed to ask. Because Daryl was right. Winter was coming, they had hardly any food left, and he was freaking starving.

"Speaking of which, I gotta ask ye fer a favour" the Irishman muttered as he got up to get his new leather jacket as well.

"Like what?" Daryl asked as he grabbed his crossbow and one of their smaller bags so he could put some provision, water and two flashlights in it.

"I want ye t'teach me how to hunt and track shit. Maybe with yer crossbow? It kinda sucks that yer the only one who can do that, that yer the one who's gotta hunt down food and find shit. I wanna be able t'do that, too."

The hunter just snorted and Connor frowned.

"Oh come on, don't gimme that shit. I got a bit of experience. Our uncle taught me and Murph all sorts of things about weapons and military stuff. I worked on a sheep farm, I know how animals work. I can ride a horse, I got a good aim, and I worked at a meat-packing plant. Which means I know how t'take out organs and make the meat ready t'eat. 's just the hunting and tracking I never gotta do."

The younger man just eyed his friend for a moment and the Irishman pointed at his friend's crossbow, which Daryl had thrown over his shoulder.

"Yer good at it. Very good in fact. And just in case anything ever happens t'ye, and I swear t'god that's never gonna happen,..someone's gotta be able t'do this shit, should ye ever be gone. I hardly fucking survived this shit before I met ye people and that was early on when there was enough food left over. But I ain't gonna last another year if I don't get my shit tagether and learn stuff like that."

Daryl sighed and chewed on his lower lip. After a moment of looking at each other he sighed and got back to packing their stuff.

"Okay. We can try."

Connor grinned and started packing some of his own stuff with a giggle.

"Fuck yeah, now that's my boy."

Daryl growled and pointed at him.

"But don't think yah get t'touch my crossbow. Don't even look at it."

Connor grinned even more.

"Come on, I gave ye my gun. The least ye can do is let me shoot that fucking thing. Fer once at least."

Daryl snorted and started walking again to make his way to the hallway.

"Dream on, yah leprechaun."

* * *

_**now...** _

Daryl was sitting on the chair in Connor's cell, the Irishman was standing right behind him. The hunter had insisted that they needed to do this in here, simply because he still didn't want people to see. He didn't want them to see his scars, that was true, but he also didn't want them to see how close and almost intimate he and his friend had gotten over the winter.  
  
Daryl had always felt uncomfortable when he was supposed to be sitting somewhere without his shirt on for the sake of the tattoo that was being put on his back, and now that there were other people around he dreaded it even more. It was like he could almost sense Rick or Carol coming up these stairs to talk to them, because he was sure that their help was needed anyway.

"Real fucking great idea ta do this in here. I can't see shit. Just cos yer a fucking baby about it" Connor growled and Daryl snorted.

"Who was being a baby about shit just an hour ago when you blasted that guy's head off? Or how about two days ago when you were acting like a fucking girl because of how people are acting around you?"

"Fuck you" Connor growled and pricked his friend extra hard, which made Daryl yelp. He tried to lunge out to hit his friend hard, but the Irishman kept him in place. There was silence again, and now that everything had calmed down the two men could actually spend some time on thinking about what had happened today. Especially Daryl couldn't stop thinking about those murders. He had never seen his friend in action like that. Not in his Saints action at least.

"'m actually surprised you didn't shoot them right from the off" he muttered and Connor snorted.

"I would've done it no matter what. I was just waiting fer the right opportunity and reason fer you people. Yer right, if it were fer me then I would've shot them right then and there. And when he cut me, shoved te walker at ye and bashed that fella's head in I was fuckin sold."

Daryl snorted as well.

"Moron."

Silence. Daryl shifted once and Connor dug his fingers in his shoulder to let him know that he was supposed to hold still if he didn't want his tattoo to get fucked up.

"How'd you people pick your victims before all that shit happened anyway?" the hunter asked to keep his friend from complaining about today.

"We went by the shape of their nose, basically" the Irishman answered and started laughing a couple of seconds later.

Daryl shook his head with an angry frown.

"Screw you."

He winced when the needle of the pen went across his spine.  
Connor got rid of some ink on his friend's skin and shook his head with a smirk.

"Nah. They basically fell into our laps every time. Just like this little fucker today. I like ta think that god leads our way.  
He sent us te message ta kill those people after all. Steady now."

Daryl just grunted and bent his back to give Connor better access. He could hear the others moving and sorting stuff downstairs, and he was still not used to having people around all of a sudden. He wanted to be with the group again, simply because he had really appreciated their company back in Atlanta and at the farm. Especially after he had lost Merle.  
  
It was well true that he had rather enjoyed the couple of months with just Connor which had also meant less drama, but they both had also felt rather lonely without other people. They were human after all, and they were still used to their old society, where there had been loads of people running around them every day. Apart from the walkers the loneliness was their worst enemy, so he actually appreciated being back with Rick and the others. And this was exactly the reason why he didn't want Connor to screw everything up with his stupid god bullshit.

"You know that Rick would've handled it, right?"

Connor snorted.

"Aye, well it's _my_ job ta rid the world of all te filth. Just cos it ended it don't mean I won't keep doing it."

"I just meant to warn you dumbass. Rick sets the rules now. Not you. Don't screw this up."

The Irishman raised an eyebrow and started pricking his friend harder than necessary.

"You can fuckin talk. Who was te one who almost gutted that kid back at the farm."

"Yeah, don't be stupid. That was different" the hunter growled and Connor stopped working for a second.

"Oh really? What was so fucking different about that one? People are dangerous to our group? We kill them. We protect the innocent and do all the work the others are too pussy ta do. 's what I've always done and it's what I will always do. End of fucking discussion. Now stop moving and let me do my fucking work."

Daryl pressed his lips together because he was angry but at the same time didn't want to say anything to that anymore. He supposed that his friend was right, and he was mad at him for bringing up this Randall kid and what he had tried to do with him. He tried to leave it be, simply because he knew that Connor would never listen to him, simply because he was way too stubborn and took every criticism the wrong way. He let him work and brood for a while and tried to be still, which was rather hard now that his friend was working like a butcher behind him.

"People told me that Herschel needs some crutches and they didn't find any here" the hunter muttered after a while and tried to change the topic, and when Connor wouldn't say anything he kept going.

"I told 'em we'd go looking for some tomorrow. Maybe go out on a scouting mission. We could also take a look at the outside of the prison, try to look for that one wall that's down."

"Sappose."

* * *

Just like any other night Daryl woke up when something moved behind him.  
He didn't even need to turn around and open his eyes, he knew what was going on.  
And just like any other night he greeted the person with the same words.

"Fuck off" he growled and shifted. And just like any other night Connor greeted him with the same words as well.

"Fuck you."

Daryl tried to move out of his reach, but he knew it was pointless. Connor would never stop coming in the middle of the night, no matter how many times he complained about it and hit his friend. The hunter opened his eyes and shook his head with an annoyed sigh.

"'m gonna move into a cell tomorrow. Just so yah ass stop annoying the crap outta me every night. Jesus, yah won't ever stop it with this faggy bullshit, will yah?"

Connor chuckled behind him.

"Well, don't think I can't fit on those bunk beds. It'll be nice 'n comfy" he said and started laughing when Daryl turned around and started hitting him. The hunter hated how this was happening every night, the same words, the same stupid fake flirtations he hated so much, the same fights, and Connor still wouldn't get it. It always felt like the Irishman enjoyed this kind of banter, as if it was his highlight of the day. Daryl, on the other hand, was really getting sick of this. They stopped fighting after a while and relaxed, now that they both were incredibly tired.

* * *

Daryl woke up for the second time in a row this night, this time because he realized that he was alone on the perch. It was rather unusual, because he remembered Connor coming to him just a couple of hours ago. He didn't want to care and sleep on, but there was a part of him that just couldn't stop worrying. The hunter sat up and looked at the cell in front of him, the cell Connor usually slept in if he wasn't busy annoying him on his perch. Daryl frowned when he saw that the cell was empty.  
  
His first instincts told him that Connor was gone. He had talked about leaving more than once, and it wasn't like the Irishman had snuck out and done something stupid before. Daryl got up and approached his friend's cell, only to see that his things and clothes were still there. He let out a relieved sigh and cursed himself for caring so much again, but that nagging part in him wouldn't go away. He scratched the back of his head and searched the rest of the cell block, but his friend was nowhere to be found. The hunter made his way out of the block and entered the entrance hall, where T-Dog was keeping watch. He looked at the man and searched the room.

"Have yah seen Connor?"

T-Dog turned around and looked at him.

"Yeah, went outside to have a smoke."

Daryl frowned even more.

"And yah let 'im?"

T-Dog shrugged.

"Ain't got no reason not to let him do whatever he wants t'do."

The hunter made his way outside and scanned the prison yard. He couldn't see Connor anywhere, so he started walking. It didn't take long and he could hear some strange coughing sounds coming from around the corner. Daryl already knew what was going on, but he was still shocked. He could see his friend standing there with his head down, another coughing fit causing him to throw up whatever was left inside him.

"Jesus, why didn't yah say anything?!"

The hunter rushed to help his friend, but as soon as he placed a hand on his back Connor already moved out of his way.

"It's nothing" he murmured and let out an exhausted groan.

"Already getting better again" he added and finally looked up. Daryl had already prepared himself to see blood, but there was nothing there.

"Just randomly felt like puking again."

The Irishman started walking and headed for the benches. Daryl tried to help him, but whenever he just got close to his friend Connor was already shoving him away. He sat down on the bench with his head down and took a couple of shaky deep breaths.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he murmured and wiped his mouth.  
  
Daryl just watched him with a worried look on his face.

"So what, yah gonna die again because of some stupid cut?"

Connor snorted and shook his head.

"You wish. No. No fever, no pain, no nothin. Just felt real fucking sick all of te sudden."

He moved the sleeve of his shirt up and looked at his stitches. They could see that there was still a blood poisoning, but it didn't look as dangerous as the bite had looked like almost a year ago. The worried look on Daryl's face wouldn't disappear.

"For real? Yah ain't lying t'me like the last time?"

Connor snorted.

"Last time I got bit it didn't take 4 hours and I was done. Been more like 4 hours now, don't ye think? And I can still walk 'n talk."

He coughed and cleared his throat. Daryl looked at him and frowned.

"Yer confusing the crap outta me, yah know that?"

The Irishman chuckled.

"Hell, I'm confusing the crap outta me."

They kept quiet for a while and Connor felt better with every minute he was sitting and breathing fresh air.  
Daryl watched some walkers outside and sighed.

"So yah really are immune. No matter how many times they bite yah. It won't kill yah."

The Irishman shrugged and leaned back.

"Well, it obviously can kill me if I lose t'much blood or they rip me or part or whatever. 's just their stuff that won't kill me" he murmured and nearly threw up again. He could keep it in, but it took him a moment to calm down again. He started walking in circles and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Want me t'get yah anything?" Daryl asked and the other man shook his head.

"No, 's alright. Let's...let's just get back inside, sleep fer a bit. Thought we were gonna leave early tomorrow."

Daryl got up.

"Yah sure? Maybe we should..."

"I said 'm fuckin fine, Daryl" Connor growled and headed for the door.

Daryl followed him with an angry frown. He hated how his friend was still backing off when he was honestly trying to help. It was like a year ago, only that they had switched rolls. Now he found himself running after his friend whereas Connor tried to keep his distance from him. No matter how many months had passed and no matter how many things had changed, their complicated friendship was still driving him insane.


	15. The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** between episodes 2 " _Sick_ " and 4 " _Killer Within_ "

_**Six weeks after the farm incident...** _

"No! I said don't move!" Daryl yelled but it was already too late.

Connor shot the arrow anyway, but it missed its target.  
The rabbit ran away, the arrow got stuck in the ground.   
The Irishman turned around to look at his friend.

"What te fuck? I would've hit it! And you fuckin shoved me and started yelling! You scared it away!"

Daryl grabbed his crossbow.

"This is fuckin ridiculous. You ain't got it in you" the hunter growled and started walking.

He searched their surroundings for anything to eat, but they were both too noisy anyway.  
Daryl went for the arrow and put it back in his crossbow. Connor went after his friend and shoved him.

"Bullshit! Ye just don't want t'share yer crossbow! I've shared a shitload with ye, my gun, cigarettes, booze, even my fucking clothes,  
so the least ye can do is share this with me!"

Daryl turned around and looked at him.

"This ain't about the crossbow, it's about the fact that you ain't got it in you!"

"Of course I do!"

The hunter shoved him back.

"No yah don't! Yer noisy, you won't ever shut up, yer walking like a troll and you're way too fidgety!"

The Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"The fuck I am!"

"Yer scaring everything away before we even get the chance t'shoot anything! We need to find something to eat!"

"Then stop yelling!" Connor shouted and growled.

"I can do it, okay? Tell me what t'do and we'll get this done."

Daryl narrowed his eyes and looked at his friend. The Irishman looked back at him and nodded.

"I can do this, brother."

The hunter sighed and gave him his crossbow back.

"Let's move" he growled and Connor started walking with a grin on his face, but his friend put a hand on his chest and shoved him back.

He pointed a finger at him and glared at him.

"But yah gonna do as I say this time. No talking. Don't make any noise. Watch yer steps. Let me go first. No shooting unless I give yah a sign."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day roaming through the woods close to their fire station. It was rather hard to come across anything living when it was getting colder and colder, but the two men didn't want to eat their remaining canned food when there was still livestock to get. They would need everything else they had as soon as real winter caught up with them, so they kept going and going, hoping to find another animal they could eat.   
  
No matter how many times the hunter yelled at his friend whenever he was doing something wrong, he was actually quite impressed. Connor was a fast learner, even with all the fights that were happening every couple of minutes he still understood almost everything he was taught. In the end they got into fights simply because they were used to it, and because they loved to tease each other.

They finally came across a opposum when it was almost too dark to see anything, but the animal was rather slow and looked like it was hurt anyway, so the two friends kept going. Connor was still allowed to hold the crossbow, and Daryl was even more surprised how good his friend had become at the whole sneaking up on things in just a couple of hours. The hunter still decided to help his friend shoot the crossbow at the animal, simply because they both couldn't risk missing it.   
  
He positioned himself right behind him and grabbed Connor's arms to help him take aim. They watched the opossum look up and then down again as it was trying to dig something up next to a tree. It was obvious that the Irishman didn't like the way his friend wouldn't let him shoot their prey on his own, all the wriggling and trying to shrug his hands off told the hunter enough. But he wouldn't let go and looked over the blonde's shoulder to get a better look at the sight of his crossbow.

He was well aware that the whole situation was awkward, but he wanted Connor to learn and he also liked that this way they would at least be some kind of warm together, now that they were so close. No matter how fucking gay that was. Screw everyone sideways who thought shit like that if they saw them like that. For a couple of minutes they remained there and tried to take aim, while being as quiet as possible.   
  
Daryl could tell that this was new for his friend. Judging by the stories about his murders the guy had always blasted his way inside locations and started shooting around like a nutter, but this wasn't about the element of surprise. This was about patience and silence. Their breathing slowed down until they were breathing in the same rhythm. Daryl pressed his index finger against Connor's right palm to signalize him that he was supposed to pull the trigger now. The arrow flew through the air and before the opossum even got the chance to run away the arrow hit it right in the eye. The Irishman lowered the crossbow and cheered loudly.

"Jesus! Did ye fuckin see that?" he exclaimed and shrugged his friend off to get to the animal he had just shot.

The hunter fell on his ass because of that shove and already wanted to complain, but Connor didn't pay any attention to him anyway.  
He grabbed their prey by its tail and lifted it up with a triumphant smirk.

"I nailed it! I. Fucking. Nailed it."

Daryl growled and picked his crossbow up, because Connor had dropped it where they had been kneeling just a second ago.

"Yah wish. You hit it cos I was helping you dumbass" he muttered and got back up.

"Bullshit, I'm genius" Connor countered and pulled the arrow out.

He wrinkled his nose and pulled a face when he noticed that he had pulled the eye out with it.

"Yikes" he muttered, grabbed the remains of the eye and then threw it at Daryl with a mischievous grin.

"Jesus, fuck off!" the hunter exclaimed and managed to jump out of the way only seconds before the eye hit the ground.

Connor chuckled and seemed very pleased with himself as he took the opossum and made his way past Daryl to get back to their fire station.

"Come on, 's getting dark out here. Better get back."

For the next couple of weeks Connor wouldn't stop practicing the whole sneaking around part, to a point where he actually snuck up on Daryl and scared the crap out of him on a daily basis until he earned a decent punch in the face for that.

* * *

**_now..._ **

"No way" Daryl protested and looked at his friend. They had been driving around and searching for crutches all day and Connor was the one driving the car down the road. Daryl had insisted on taking his motorbike for the trip, but the Irishman had refused to sit behind him, so they had taken a car instead. Now he regretted his decision to let his friend drive, because once again Connor was being incredibly stubborn.

"Why not? 's a good idea. I let ye out by the side of the road, I drive into town, get some crutches and some supplies, come back,  
pick ye up and we get back t'the prison. Nice and easy."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah and I give yah a nice 'n easy hell no! What are yah, insane? Town's gotta be overrun with walkers, especially downtown, the hospitals,  
anywhere they sent people when they got sick."

The Irishman shrugged.

"So what, 's not like they..."

"Oh don't get started on this shit now. I said no. Light's gonna be gone in an hour or two.  
Remember what happened last time yah were heading for some town with a car? I had t'get back t'yah and save yer ass!"

Connor growled and drove around a walker that was stumbling in their direction.

"And ye don't get started on that shit every fucking time. 've changed a lot since te farm. Stop fuckin babysitting me all of te sudden."

"I ain't babysitting yah!"

The Irishman hit the brakes and looked at his friend.

"Fine, then get yer ass outta here. 'm gonna pick ye up in 20 minutes or so."

Daryl stared at him and didn't move.

"Come on, light's gonna be gone in an hour or two" Connor said and his friend narrowed his eyes.

"Yer not seriously kicking me out in the middle of fucking nowhere."

The Irishman grinned.

"Why, are ye scared, Darylena?"

"Fuck you!" Daryl spat and hit his friend's shoulder hard. Connor chuckled and switched the engine off.

"Alright. Then you take te car and wait fer me here" he said and loosened his seat belt. The hunter grabbed his arm and squeezed tight.

"You ain't gonna _walk_ into town."

Connor shook him off and got angry.

"Alright, seriously dude. Herschel needs crutches, walkers don't attack me, so don't make it that big a deal and stop being such a pussy here. I survived two fucking months on my own even without the whole immunity bullshit, and I survived a huge fucking city like Boston. So you either take the car now and wait fer me here as back up, or ye don't. As fer me, 'm going t'town no matter what. So shut yer hole and man up. 'm 36, not 12. Herschel needs those fucking things, and this is the easiest way ta get some."

He got rid of his seat belt and reached behind his seat to get his bag. Then he opened the door and got out of the car. He was surprised when he couldn't hear the banging of doors behind him, he had expected Daryl to follow him and start yelling at him any second now. For a while he kept walking down the road, then he heard the engine of the car behind him. A minute later a Hyundai passed him and came to a halt right in front of him, blocking the road, with its windows down. The Irishman stopped walking and frowned. Daryl was sitting behind the wheel and glared at him.

"Get in. We'll get yer crutches" he growled and opened the passenger door.

* * *

"Well that's...weird" Connor said and looked out of the window. They had stopped their car right in the middle of Macon road, a street which led to the city center of Griffin. There were no walkers anywhere, and it was quiet. The Irishman looked at the mansion to his right, the main building of The Woods assisted senior living complex. It had been Daryl's idea to go there when they had seen the sign, and now he had to admit that it was a great idea.   
  
It would be ridiculous if they didn't find any crutches there, and the fact that the complex wasn't right in the middle of the city made the whole idea even better. Connor turned his head to look at his friend, who had switched off the engine by now and watched their surroundings through narrowed eyes. He was chewing on his fingernails, and for a second that made the Irishman both sad and smile. Murphy had always been biting his fingernails when he was nervous, and the fact that Daryl was doing the exact same thing made the whole experience even weirder.

"I don't know, man. I don't like it" the hunter growled. Connor rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on now. I got it te first time. Ye don't like me plan, fine. But we're still going. Let's..move the car off the road and park it somewhere close t'the mansion. It won't take me a sec. 'm gonna go in and get some crutches and see what else they got in there. You wait fer me in the car."

Daryl frowned.

"Since when did we agree that yah dumbass go in there alone?"

"Since we agreed that I go in there alone" Connor answered and grinned at his friend.

"Now get t'car over there. I wanna get back t'the prison before it gets dark."

The hunter growled angrily, but did as he was told. The white building in front of them looked so untouched that it made them feel weird. Of course there were a couple of clothes and shoes and trash lying around, but they had seen other houses that had looked far worse. Connor reckoned that back in the old days this place sure had been a nice home for old people, with big and green trees surrounding the property on three sites.  
  
It really looked like a proud mansion, which was still untouched by all the blood, dirt and gore they had come across over the past year. But this was exactly the reason why it looked so creepy, so out of this world. Daryl parked their car right in front of the main entrance after driving around the traffic circle, where a small and dry water fountain was located. Both men scanned their surroundings once more, but no walkers were to be seen, not even bodies. The frown on Daryl's face wouldn't go away.

"Maybe we should go back t'this old hospital we found down the road" he murmured.

The other man frowned angrily and got his guns and knife ready.

"Don't be stupid. We're here now, aren't we?" he murmured and opened his door.  
  
He patted Daryl's shoulder absently and got out of the car.

"Be right back, brother."

He looked at the building in front of him. Once again the absolute silence was freaking him out, but he tried to relax.

"Eh leprechaun" he heard Daryl say and rolled his eyes.

He turned around again and knelt down so he could have a look inside their car, where his friend was still sitting behind the wheel.

"Watch yer ass and remember what I taught yah about sneaking around" the hunter reminded him and Connor chuckled.

"Yeah yeah, Ma. I'll be back at 6" he answered and patted the roof of the Hyundai.

He turned around and made his way up the stairs to have a look inside the building. When he got closer to the wooden entrance door he could see that all sorts of yellowed papers were nailed to it. The Irishman got closer and frowned. **EVACUATED. ALL VISITORS ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO RETURN TO THEIR HOMES. ALL INHABITANTS CAN BE FOUND AT SPALDING REGIONAL HOSPITAL..** he didn't read on because he knew the rest of the information by heart. All sorts of instructions and information on the outbreak, local refugee camps, military camps...every single info that had helped absolutely _no one_ in the end.   
  
The Irishman sighed and walked down the porch to have a look inside the building, but even inside the rooms he couldn't see any walkers. It made him even more suspicious , but after taking his knife he still decided to walk around the building to look for an entrance. On his way to the other end of the building Connor turned his head when he heard how the door of their car was closed. He could see how Daryl got out of the Hyundai, with his poncho wrapped around his shoulders and his crossbow in his hands. The Irishman chuckled and shook his head.

"Fucker just can't sit on his ass fer a minute and let me handle shit fer once" he murmured and sighed.

This was the very difference between his best friend and dead brother. No matter how much they looked alike and sometimes even acted the same way, Daryl was very different in that regard. He never obeyed his "orders", nor did he stick to his plans. Murphy had always relied on Connor. The Irishman was used to it after all, doing all the planning. And no matter how much his younger half had always complained about his ideas, in the end he had always listened to him and stuck to his rules. Daryl, however, would never do that.  
  
 _I ain't nobody's bitch_ he had heard him say more than once. Connor startled when he ran right into something. The stench told him everything he needed to know, so he instantly grabbed his knife and tried to stab the walker he had run into. He yelped even more and widened his eyes in surprise when the undead suddenly grabbed him by both his arms and growled angrily.

"Fuck off!" the Irishman yelled and fought the walker, which had once been a man in his mid forties. The undead growled even more and tried to bite Connor's throat, which absolutely horrified the blonde. He was surprised how strong the walker really was, and after fighting and shoving and struggling the undead wrestled him to the ground.

"Stop struggling!" he heard Daryl yell and a second later the loud zap of an arrow could be heard. It missed its target and flew right through one of the windows, smashing it like it was made of paper. The walker was pinning Connor down, and since he was still grabbing him by his arms it was impossible for the Irishman to stab his head. He was helplessly struggling underneath the undead and stabbed his stomach instead, using his feet to keep the walker at a distance so he wouldn't rip his throat out. The blonde craned his neck and tried to make out his friend.

"Daryl!" he yelled and looked at the walker again.

He couldn't understand what was going on. The undead was aggressive and blood thirsty, and it was very obvious that he _wanted_ to bite him, attack him. It seemed to take his friend forever until he finally appeared on top of both of them, his crossbow thrown over his shoulder and with his knife in his hand. The hunter stabbed the back of the walker's head and grabbed him by his shoulders to get him off the Irishman. Connor was still lying on the porch, his chest heaving because of the shock. Both men looked at each other in surprise, then Daryl turned his head to look at the walker he had just stabbed and which was lying right next to his friend now.

"What the fuck" Connor gasped and checked his arms and chest for any bites or injuries.

Daryl eyed him with a frown. The Irishman sat up and looked at the walker to his right. He could feel his heart pumping in his chest. When he looked back at Daryl he could still see the confused and worried look on his face. Connor reached out for him so his friend could help him back on his feet. The blonde wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the walker again, kicking it just to make sure it was dead. The hunter finally spoke out what they both thought.

"Why did he attack yah all of a sudden? I thought they ain't interested in yah?"

Connor put both his hands on his hips and looked up to face his friend.

"I seriously got no idea what te fuck's going on here" he murmured and looked up to search their surroundings for any walkers, since he was pretty sure that his screaming had attracted some of them. He bit his lip and scratched his chin.

"Maybe the fucker was just as surprised as me."

Daryl snorted and turned around to search for his arrow, which had landed inside the building.

"Yah wish. That walker came right at yah. He wanted t'chew yer face off."

Connor frowned even more. The whole thing made him feel extremely uncomfortable. It had been almost a year since he had last been attacked by a walker, and that had been when... He looked at his arm where he could see the scar. Somehow it made him angry. Because this was _impossible_. They had never dared to attack him ever since that bite, so why would they just come at him again all of a sudden? It _had_ to be a mistake. Daryl nudged him and snapped him out of it.

"Told yah this shit wouldn't last" he murmured and looked at the window he had shot.

"Found us a way in" he went on, wrapped his poncho around his fist and punched the rest of the glass away.

He pointed at it and looked at Connor.

"Leprechauns first" he said and waited. The Irishman growled.

"Fuck you" he murmured and approached the window to get inside.


	16. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** between episode 2 " _Sick_ " and episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

_**eight weeks after the farm incident...** _

"Where the hell have you been?" Daryl snapped as he watched Connor come up the stairs.  
His friend was carrying their scouting bag, and the hunter widened his eyes even more when he saw that the Irishman had company.

"What the fuck, where did yah get this thing from?!" he exclaimed and pointed at the animal that followed the Irishman.

It was a black and white Shetland sheepdog that followed the blonde wherever he went.

"It's not a thing, it's a fucking dog. Found 'im on my way inta town" Connor muttered as he entered the upstairs level and make his way past Daryl. He entered the room they used as their hideout for the winter and put the bag down, and when the dog wouldn't stop nudging his leg he turned around and started petting him with a smirk. The hunter had followed them inside the room and was eyeing the two of them with an angry frown, and when the dog started barking he got even angrier.

"You ain't keeping him, he's too goddamn noisy!"

"The fuck 'm gonna do! He was all alone out there, look how fuckin happy he is!" Connor said and pointed at the dog's wriggling tail.

He stroke the dog and got something what looked like dog treats out of his pocket.

"Shush, Hannibal. We don't want them ta hear us now, do we? Aye, there's a good boy!"

Daryl raised an eyebrow and frowned even more as he watched his friend play with the dog.

"Hannibal?"

Connor nodded with a grin and patted the dog's back.

"Aye. He reminds me of our sheepdog we had back in Ireland. Just te same good boy as you are, yes you are" he said to the dog and grinned even more.

Daryl just stood there and watched without saying anything. He hated how Connor still wouldn't stop talking about the past.   
How this was supposed to be doing him any good was beyond him.  
He tried to make his way to their bag to see what Connor had brought with him.

"Seriously, I don't think this is a good idea, how are we supposed to feed him? We're almost starving ourselves, yah dumbass."

The Irishman suddenly grabbed the bag to keep his friend from opening it.

"He was all alone out there and kept following me, what te fuck was I sapposed ta do? I brought some dog food from te store at the town center with me. Don't worry. He's gonna do us good. Fellas like this one are eager ta help ye with the hunt. You can't imagine how much our dog helped me and Murph back at te farm."

Daryl got angry because his friend wouldn't shut up about Ireland, but he was even angrier at Connor because he had gone on his own.

"You went to the town center? Are yah fuckin stupid, it's too damn dangerous out there yah moron! There's walkers everywhere!"

"Oh fuck you, what are they gonna do? Bite me?! They don't attack me. Get over it."

The Irishman sat down next to the dog who obviously enjoyed all the attention he suddenly got from people. For just a moment Daryl watched the two of them and the dog looked back at him with his big blue eyes. The hunter had always wanted another dog himself, he gave his friend that, but he seriously couldn't understand how Connor thought they could actually take care of the animal. They had hardly any food, winter was coming, and they couldn't risk his barking all the time. _They needed to be quiet to make this place work, why wouldn't his friend get that?_

"I found us some more supplies. Bitta food and water and bandages and shit" Connor muttered after a moment.

"Yeah, not to mention the fucking dog" Daryl growled and turned around to head for the door.

"I'm gonna check the doors and windows before we crash for the night. And get that thing to shut up, will yah."

* * *

Connor was sitting on the old and dusty couch whereas Daryl was sitting on the carpeted floor. The hunter was cleaning his crossbow and kept looking at the dog every once in a while, because the animal wouldn't stop staring at him. He was sitting right in front of him, tail wriggling and heckling all the way through.   
  
It seemed like he was especially interested in Daryl's red rag which he used to clean his weapon, and although the hunter tried his hardest to fight it – he actually thought that the little bastard was cute. He looked up to see how his friend was doing. Connor was reading that old paper again like it was some sort of stupid ritual. He sure as hell knew every headline by now, every sentence, every dot, but somehow the Irishman kept reading it over and over again.

"Today's Christmas" the blonde said about ten minutes later and Daryl looked up again.

"What?"

Connor nodded and turned the page without looking at his friend.

"Aye.'ve been keeping track of time. Kinda. Today's Christmas Eve."

Daryl snorted and started sorting his arrows.

"So?"

Connor shrugged and searched the pockets of his jeans to get out his cigarette pack.

"Nothin. 's just why I went inta town. I spent some time inside the church. 's where I found this little fella" he said and pointed at the dog.

Daryl shook his head.

"Christmas don't mean nothing these days. Stuff like that'll get yah killed. Don't do that shit again."

Connor looked up with an annoyed frown.

"We can't just ferget traditions like that just cos the world's gone ta shit. People've been celebrating the birth of Christ fer hundreds and hundreds of years now, Christmas is a celebration of life and joy and obedience and family and positivity itself. It would be a disgrace and fucking disrespectful nat ta keep doing it. "

Daryl looked up with an angry snort.

"What is there to celebrate if there ain't any people left and we're starvin? There's dead people walking all around us, we're gonna get ourselves killed if we don't adjust to this situation, and it ain't like no stupid prayer or any of that shit's gonna make the whole thing any better. What are yah gonna do next, walk back into town and drag a fucking tree with you? And greet santa while yer at it? Grow up, gotta focus on survival. 's all that matters now."

"Oh fuck you" Connor said and got up all of a sudden. When he headed for the door both Daryl and the dog watched him leave.

"Hey, where yah going?"

"I'm having a fucking smoke outside" the Irishman growled and left the room.

Both the dog and the hunter kept looking at the hallway, then the animal started whimpering and turned his head to look at Daryl.  
The hunter looked back at him with an annoyed frown and shook his head.

"What? Don't look at me like that" he growled and the dog started liking his nose and rested his head on his paws. He wouldn't stop whimpering.

"Someone's gotta say it!" Daryl tried to reason with the animal, and then got up with a huff. The dog got up as well and finally ran after Connor.

The hunter headed for one of the windows and tried to have a look outside. He could see Connor down there, and he was walking around the driveway with a smoke in his hand. The Irishman turned around when he heard some barking. He knelt down with a slight smirk to greet the dog that had followed him downstairs, and Daryl had enough. He stepped away from the window with a growl and turned around to let his gaze wander around the room. He frowned when he noticed the having scouting back again. It looked like it was packed with stuff, and he wondered why Connor had not shown him all his findings yet.

The hunter looked out of the window once more to make sure that his friend was still busy with his dog, then he walked over to the couch to get the bag. It was _heavy_. Daryl opened the straps and had quite some trouble with the bag, but after some fiddling about he finally managed to open it. He frowned even more when a large green tube-like thing fell into his hands. It was wrapped in a colorful thing that looked like a blanket or something like that.  
  
He got rid of it and took a closer look at the strange tube thing. It was large and green and there was a rope tied around it like this was supposed to be holding it, and when Daryl noticed the camouflage duct tape that closed the one end of the tube he finally got what it was supposed to be. A quiver. Daryl turned his head to look out of the window again. The color, the stupid rope and the general self-made feel of it all told him everything he needed to know. Connor had made this thing himself. He inspected the object one more and then shook his head with a gentle snort.

"Moron."

"..fuckin walkers all over the place again.." he heard Connor mutter about five minutes later and turned around in surprise.

He had not heard his friend, who had come back upstairs and was now standing in the doorway with the smoking cigarette still in his hand.

"Hey, what te fuck" the Irishman complained and pointed at the open bag.

"The hell's this?" Daryl muttered and showed his friend the tube. Connor approached him with an angry frown and tried to take it away.

"Nothing. Ye weren't sapposed ta fuckin see it yet."

The younger of the two kept it out of the blonde's reach and looked at it again.

"'s a fucking quiver that is. Now give it back. It was sapposed ta be a christmas present. . But how are ye supposed ta know, being all anti- and never-ever-Christmas" Connor growled and headed for the window to open it so the cigarette smoke could get out.

Daryl eyed the object and frowned.

"I never got any presents before" he muttered and turned the quiver around once more.

"Yeah that's what I figured when I heard yer fucking attitude all te time. Came across this Robin Hood Fan Merchandising Store, figured that you need one of those. "

Connor smirked after a moment and turned around so he could lean against the window sill. He folded his arms and watched how his friend put some of his arrows in it.

"Just shitting ye. I did it myself when I found this tube at this building site close to te church."

The hunter tested the quiver's stability and nodded with a silent "huh", then he frowned and looked at his friend.

"Green, though? Yah trying to turn me into a leprechaun now?"

Connor chuckled.

"Shut it. Ye don't get ta complain. Ye can always put it on ebay."

"Ha. Ha." Daryl countered and looked at his present again.

He still didn't really know what to say.

"So what now. Do ye like it? You can always give me yer crossbow and that thing if you don't want it."

The hunter snorted.

"Yah wish. It's okay I guess."

His friend snorted as well and looked away again.

"Wow. Aren't ye the grateful and cheery one."

"Shut up."

He eyed his present a bit longer and Connor came closer to pick the colorful blanket up.

"What do ye think about this one then?"

Daryl looked up and frowned.

"What's that?"

"It's a fucking poncho" Connor explained and then put it on. He posed with a massive grin on his face.

"Like Clint Eastwood. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Like in those Spaghetti Westerns. Yer gonna look like a fucking badass with that and yer crossbow. Figured ye'd need this fer the winter, considering how yer always freezing yer ass off."

Daryl couldn't fight the smirk that broke through. He huffed and got back on his feet.

"I ain't gonna wear that shit."

"Yes you fucking are" Connor countered and got rid of the poncho again.

He then knelt down when he noticed that the dog was nudging his legs again and started stroking his head.

"Or maybe 'm just gonna give it ta you, aye? We don't need that ungrateful fucker, do we? No we don't..."

Daryl put the quiver down and just watched his friend and the dog for a moment. He searched his  
his jeans awkwardly and scratched his nose.

"I got nothing" he muttered and felt guilty.

Connor waved him off and got back on his feet so he could prepare his sleeping back for the night.

""Don't matter. I don't need anything. I appreciate the fact that ye got this ugly face" he said and turned his back on Daryl.

"Besides, I already got my present. 'm gonna keep te fucking dog."

* * *

_**now...** _

Once they were inside they had to realize that the mansion really wasn't so untouched at all. Just like many of the other houses they had come across during the past year the furniture inside the house had been thrown over and searched. Looters had taken anything with them that had been somewhat helpful, or back at the beginning when things like this had still mattered, valuable.  
  
The heavy mahogany table that had once stood in the entrance hall had been knocked over, a vase that had once been placed on top of it had fallen to pieces on the expensive parquet. Wooden stairs led right up to the second level, and when Connor turned his head he could see an old and beautiful wall clock standing there in the corner. It had stopped working some day at nine past eight. Both men scanned the entrance hall. Daryl nodded and so did Connor after a moment. He started walking and looked at the chandelier on the ceiling.

"Well then, sure looks bit more inviting than our shabby ol' prison, don't ye think?" he asked and smirked at Daryl.

The hunter snorted and started walking.

"Give me stone walls, guard towers and fences any day" he answered, raised his crossbow and headed for the room to their right.

Connor sighed and eyed the entrance hall for a little bit longer. He had never been inside such a nice mansion before, and it was a nice change for now. He was getting really tired of all the blood and greyness of it all. The walls around him were painted in a colorful yellow, and although some of the furniture had been knocked over the place still looked beautiful.

"Hurry up.."

"..we ain't got all day, dumbass" Connor finished the sentence in perfect unison with his friend. He was used to Daryl's grumpy commands, so he didn't even waste a second on actually replying something. He headed for the room on the other side of the entrance hall, which had obviously once been the common room. The seat upholstery of the couch and armchairs had been sliced and ripped apart, and several bottles and cans were lying on the ground. The Irishman could see that cigarette butts were lying all over the place, and there was a massive burn hole in the carpet in front of the fireplace. Connor startled when Daryl entered the room and spoke up.

"Found anything?" the hunter asked and the Irishman shook his head. He pointed at the broken couch on the other side of the room and grinned.

"Found a comfy couch though. Now ye can draw me like one of yer french girls" he said and waggled his eyebrows at his friend.

Daryl rolled his eyes and left the room again.

"Come on now, we still got a shitload of other rooms t'search and it's getting dark."

* * *

The complex consisted of a two-story main building, which was located at the center of the property. Two wings were attached to the mansion, and after searching the rooms of the main house both men came to the conclusion that they would be way faster if each of them took one wing on their own. Much to their surprise neither Connor nor Daryl had found anything useful yet, including crutches. Whenever they looked out of the windows they could see that the sun was setting by now.  
  
Connor was searching the north wing, which was pretty much the recreational center. He found the dining hall, hair dresser and spa, but just like anywhere else anything useful had been taken already. When he looked outside the window of the dinning hall, which was facing the backside of the complex, he could see a park and the parking lot, which seemed to be the solution to the strange lack of bodies. He could see a smoking pile of bodies somewhere at the very end of the parking lot, and a track of dried blood indicated that they had been dragged out through the backdoor that connected the dinning hall with the park. The Irishman shook his head. "Hallelujah" he murmured and decided to head back to the entrance hall.

Daryl had picked the wing with the staff rooms and kitchen, but apart from rotten food and obvious signs of looting and people who had used the complex as temporary hideout there was absolutely nothing there. He was on his way back to the entrance hall and already wanted to call it a day, then he saw some old crutches lying on the ground by a door he had missed the first time. The hunter knelt down and took them with a relieved sigh. Now he finally had the excuse he needed to get the stupid leprechaun's ass back to camp, and if Connor still didn't want to head back then he would have a nice thing to hit his friend at least.   
  
He threw his crossbow over his shoulder so he could take the crutches and head back. The hunter walked around the corner to enter the entrance hall and nearly dropped everything. Five men were standing in front of him, the entrance door wide open behind them. They looked just as surprised, and in a matter of seconds the strangers pulled their guns. Daryl didn't have any time to take his crossbow, so he grabbed his hunting knife and gave them a death glare, being well aware of the two men that closed in on him and slowly positioned themselves behind him.   
  
The hunter eyed them and turned his head every couple of seconds so he could look at all of them. One of them, a man in his mid-thirties with shoulder long blonde hair and a bandana, stepped forward and eyed Daryl head to toe, chewing on something that looked like a tooth-pick. The man suddenly grinned in a way that suggested that he wasn't one of the good guys.

"Nice blanket" he said and pointed at the hunter's poncho.

The other men around Daryl started laughing. The hunter narrowed his eyes and glared at them. Each member of the gang was wearing the same sort of leather jacket. Some of them had tattoos all over their chests, arms and necks. They all were even dirtier than Daryl, with missing or black teeth and a terrible scent. The man with the longer hair came even closer to the hunter, and it became pretty obvious that he was their leader. The man pointed at the open door and chuckled quietly.

"This yours?" he went on and pointed at the Hyundai, which was still parked right in front of the door.

"Yah don't look like no guy who's driving around with no car that's for menopaused bitches" another member of the gang, a slim bald guy who was wearing no shirt under his leather jacket, said and the others laughed.

"Course Jimbo, just look at the blanket" a more muscular man with a beard and even longer hair said in a deep throaty voice and the gang laughed even more.

Daryl tried to head for the door, but the leader of the group placed himself in front of him, still laughing.

"Now hold on, blanket. Why don't yah tell us a little more 'bout yourself, huh? Any particular reason yah broke int'my house all by yourself? World out there's dangerous, especially when yah all on your own.." he chuckled and shoved Daryl when the hunter tried to get past them. It took the hunter a second to let the information sink in. _All on your own. They don't know 'bout Connor yet,_ he thought, but got angry as soon as the leader of the group touched him.

"Get your mits off me!" the hunter spat and swung his knife around, trying to attack the three that were standing right in front of him.

The men dodged his blow and just laughed, and it took just a slight movement of the leader's hand and the two other men behind Daryl darted forward and grabbed him. One of them grabbed him by his arm and yanked it back so the hunter was forced to drop the knife, whereas the other wrapped an arm around his neck and put him in a headlock. The redneck could feel how they grabbed his crossbow and took it away from him. A second later the third member of the group, a younger man with short blonde hair and a massive tattoo on his neck, appeared in front of Daryl, taking a closer look at the crossbow.

"Phat thing, man. Nice" he said and inspected the weapon. The hunter nearly exploded.

"Get yer filthy mits off that, yah shitface! 'm gonna kill yah!" Daryl yelled and fought the grip of the other two men, who were obviously enjoying the whole thing.

The whole group was still laughing and taking all his weapons, whereas the hunter got more and more furious. No matter how much he struggled and how hard he fought, they wouldn't let go. Quite the opposite, the grip around his throat tightened even more. _Where the fuck was Connor?!_ The leader of the group took a look at Daryl's crossbow as well and then approached the hunter with a grin on his face.

"Now, now. This ain't the way t'greet the owners of the house yah scumbag just broke in to, don'tcha think, blanket?" he said and got so close to Daryl's face that the hunter exploded even more.

"Fuck you" he answered and spit right in his face.

In a matter of seconds the whole gang stopped laughing and looked at their leader, who was slowly wiping his face. He gave Daryl a death glare and didn't say anything. Instead of lashing out and punching their captive in the face the man got up and headed for the door to close it slowly.

"Well, just your luck, blanket. I'm in a good mood right now" he said and turned around once the door was shut behind him.

A dark smile spread across his face after a moment of just staring at Daryl.

"You've arrived just 'n time for diner."


	17. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! Sorry, it's rather "brutal" and a tiny bit sick. But I still wanted to write about it, now that we have come across that sort of thing more than once in the TWDverse. Oh and kuddos to you if you get the reference to that one group.
> 
>  **setting:** between episode 2 " _Sick_ " and episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

_**two months ago...** _

The melting of the snow was actually a blessing. They had almost run out of cans and other food, and it was about time they finally got the chance to go on a hunt again. Connor, Daryl and their dog had become a perfect hunting team over the winter. Hannibal was the one chasing the animals and keeping them close. Daryl was the one who was perfect for the actual tracking down and killing, and Connor was best when it came down to the whole gutting and preparing the meat part.  
  
He still had to admit that he wasn't that good at shooting animals, and since his friend was the one with the crossbow anyway he decided to leave it be. The Irishman could track and sneak around now, but even he had to admit that he was never going to be as good as his friend at this. Daryl was the born hunter, Connor the born shepherd. He had their dog under control like no one else could, and so the three of them really fit and worked like clockwork.

It was their third hunt this early spring, and once again they were running and sneaking around the woods that surrounded their small firestation. Daryl had spotted a deer earlier, and they were keen to find it again. They were all hungry and especially Daryl was pissed, because just about half an hour ago it had been Connor who had messed up their hunt when he had not been quiet enough.  
  
His friend was good at the sneaking part, but not good enough, and after months of hunting and Connor still being such a goddamn clumsy idiot sometimes he was just angry because of that. When he heard another loud cracking of a branch underneath Connor's feet Daryl turned his head with an angry growl and hissed.

"Watch where yah fucking going, you moron. Deer's close" he whispered and the blonde rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you."

The hunter was just about to say something back when the loud and terrifying yelping and whimpering of their dog startled them both.

* * *

_**now...** _

"Get yer filthy mits of that, yah shitface! 'm gonna kill yah!"

When Connor heard Daryl's screams he dropped everything and started running. He had been on his way through the hairdresser's when he heard his friend's shouting. At first his brother instincts kicked in and he just wanted to run and scream for his friend, just like he had always done when Murphy had been in trouble, but as soon as he got closer to the entrance hall he could hear other voices. The Irishman put his knife away and took both his guns instead, ready to shoot anyone who threatened Daryl.

"Now now. This ain't the way t'greet the owners of the house yah scumbag just broke in to, dont'cha think, blanket?" he heard another man say and approached the door that led back to the entrance hall. He couldn't really see much because he wanted to remain unseen himself, but the short glimpse he got told him everything he needed to know, everything that made him both furious and horrified.   
  
He could see a group of five men who were surrounding Daryl, and two of them were holding the hunter in a tight grip. One man, who had short blonde hair a massive tattoo of an eagle on his neck, was looking at his friend's crossbow with a grin on his face. _Explains all this screaming about,_ he thought and tried to get closer.

He froze when the parquet underneath his feet creaked. The Irishman held his breath and swallowed hard, fearing that they had heard him. The group didn't look in his direction, they were too busy staring at the man who was obviously their leader and who had Daryl's spit in his face. Connor's mind was racing. He could tell that the group was dangerous, but now that they had taken all of Daryl's weapons and now that the hunter was stuck like that he knew it would be impossible to eliminate them.  
  
He watched how the leader of the group wiped his face and turned around, and the Irishman didn't hesitate and aimed at his back. If the man just dared to threaten Daryl in any way because of the spitting attack then he wouldn't waste a second and shoot the guy dead. The man with the shoulder long blonde hair closed the entrance door.

"Well, just your luck, blanket. I'm in a good mood right now" he said and Connor narrowed his eyes.

_Yeah ye won't be fer too long._

The Irishman was just waiting for them to part. He knew that he stood little chance if he just stepped out right here and now and started shooting at them. Even two guns, good aim and a knife wouldn't get them out of here alive this way. He wasn't stupid after all, and most certainly not suicidal anymore, so he made the decision to take them out one by one, hoping that they would leave Daryl alone in the meantime.  
  
Despite the fact that the group consisted of five members and they were practically outnumbered Connor knew that he and his friend had a great advantage: they didn't know about him yet. The leader suddenly turned around and Connor moved away from the door in a hurry so he remained unseen.

"You've arrived just 'n time for diner."

This comment made the blonde MacManus frown. _How weird were they?_ He knew that this statement could mean a lot of things. Maybe they had returned from a hunt with a couple of does or god knows what. Then there was always the other possibility, that they were threatening Daryl, which would mean...He shook his head angrily. _No._ _That's fucking ridiculous._

"FJ, how 'bout you get our little feast in here. Henry, Zach, why don't you help me with our... guest. Let's show him the way to our place. Let 'im have a seat.  
Jimbo, you know your way t'the kitchen, don't yah?"

Connor tried to move closer to the door again to see what was going on. He cursed when he saw that the leader of the group was still facing his door.

"Let go off me, or I swear yah won't see the rest of it" he heard Daryl growl. The group started laughing again.

"No offense Robin Hood, but yah really think we're afraid of some dude with a blanket?" a man with a deep throaty voice said and the rest of the group laughed even more. No matter how many times Connor had made fun of Daryl whenever he had been wearing his poncho, right now he was just as angry as his friend.  
  
Because no one was mocking him as long as he was around. Because the man was practically his brother, because he looked like Murphy, and his brain told him to protect his "little" brother from any sort of bully. _But why wouldn't they just go separate ways already?_

"Now now, FJ. Let's quit that for now. Get the food. Before it loses its great taste. We got a hungry group here. We can discuss all that shit after diner.  
Before we get the desert."

One of the men started chuckling.

"I don't know Ace, he looks a bit stringy if yah ask me" he giggled. The man with the deep voice joined in.

"Well, at least there's more on 'im than what we get from the usual stuff we bring home."

"What?! Who the fuck are yah people? Let me go!" Connor heard Daryl yell and widened his eyes in shock. So they really were what he had thought they were. His best friend was kept prisoner by a bunch of _cannibals_. He hit his head angrily and cursed himself for urging Daryl to get crutches.  
 _Why had they come here out of all places?_

"Come on now. Move your asses _"_ the leader of the group said. The whole group except for Daryl fell quiet, then he could hear footsteps. The Irishman heard how his friend was dragged away, and when he took another look he could see that everyone apart from the leader of the group and the bald man had left the entrance hall. Daryl's screams and yells were now coming from what Connor believed was the common room. The bald man shook his head and lit a cigarette.

"I don't know Ace, yah think this is a good idea?"

The leader snorted and watched something outside. Both men were standing in front of the entrance door they had opened again, and the Irishman believed to see the large muscular guy with long hair by some other cars that were parked close to their Hyundai.

"I don't care about good ideas, good meal's all we need t'worry 'bout, Jimbo. Now go to the kitchen and get our things ready. I got mouths to feed here."

The younger man shrugged.

"Yeah I just mean...that guy looks tough. What if he's with a group? What if they come looking for him?"

Ace shook his head.

"You saw that guy. Crossbow, clothes, knives, that guy's a hunter. Ain't no reason for him t'be with a group."

Jimbo turned around all of a sudden. Connor widened his eyes and hid again. He had caught glimpse of how the man had been pointing at his door,  
so he was sure that they had discovered him. He cursed himself for being so stupid and grabbed his gun.

"What 'bout those crutches then? He came here with those things in his hands. Why would he need that shit. He's gotta be with a group, man."

"So fucking what? Shut up and get our shit from the kitchen!" the leader yelled again and the other man murmured something, then he left the room. Connor remained hidden for a little while longer. As soon as he was sure that Jimbo had left the hall as well he dared to have a look again. Ace, the leader of the gang, was still standing in front of the door, all by himself now. The Irishman tried to open the door a bit more so he could take better aim. He placed his finger on the trigger and took a deep breath, but startled once more when Ace cheered loudly all of a sudden.

"Now there it is! Well done FJ!" he yelled and Connor backed off again. The other member of the group entered the hall with a grin on his face. The Irishman almost dropped his guns when he saw what the man was carrying in his arms. Slim and fragile arms and legs were fighting his grip, but the man held his prey too tight. Ace cheered once more and took a closer look at their "feast".

"Great, man. Feels like we didn't have any of that in.."

"..years?" FJ finished the sentence for his leader with a grin on his face. He looked at the struggling girl in his arms as well. Connor saw red. Part of him just wanted to storm out and kill the men with his bare hands. He could see that the little girl in their arms was crying, but her screams and sobs were muffled by a gag. Ace laughed and patted FJ's back.

"Well done, brother. Let's get her to Zach 'n Henry. Jimbo's in the kitchen, but we don't need this bonehead anyway" he said and both men started laughing again, ignoring the little girl's desperate sobs completely. They closed the door to the common room behind them, and it was quiet in the entrance hall. Connor could still hear Daryl's muffled yelling and how the group was laughing.  
  
For a second he didn't know how to breathe. _How the fuck had everything spiraled out of control in just a matter of seconds? Just a minute ago he and Daryl had been joking around in that common room. And now this? Cannibals? A little girl?_

Just thinking about her made the Irishman incredibly furious again. He grabbed both his guns and finally entered the hall. He didn't even care about the group anymore, that they could discover him any second now with him being out in the open like that. He just needed to end this. He just needed to _kill_ them. The Irishman had no idea where the kitchen was, Daryl had searched this part of the mansion after all, but he knew that one member of the group was there, all on his own.  
  
Preparing what they called _dinner_. Just one day ago he had thought that he had never experienced that much hatred when he had met the prisoners. Tomas. When he had killed Tomas. But this was nothing compared to the hatred and blood lust he was feeling now.

Once again he could not understand how bastards like this group could still be alive. Murderers. Rapists. Cannibals. It seemed like all of humanity had died when the virus hit. Like everything _good_ had just died. He remembered all the good people he had loved and lost because of the outbreak. Duffy. Dolly. Smecker. Eunice. Doc. Rome. Murphy. It wasn't fair. It was so wrong.   
  
And he knew that it was his job to set things right. At this moment it wasn't even about Daryl anymore. He wanted to save his friend, of course he did! But this was about way more. After walking through corridors for what felt like hours he finally found the kitchen. He could hear Jimbo working in there, throwing all sorts of things around.

"Fuckin bastards" he heard the man growl as he entered the kitchen with one of his Berettas pointed at him. Jimbo had his back turned on Connor.

"Jimbo fetch this, Jimbo shut up, get back to the kitchen, get this, do that..Fuckin cocksuckers" he went on and threw a plate away.

It broke into pieces with a loud bang, and Connor used the opportunity to get even closer to him.

"I tried to warn 'em, but noooo. Fucktard ain't got no group. Fuckin dumbasses.   
Next thing we know we got a fuckin bullet in our heads cos of fucking Ace's fuckin..."

"Hey Jimbo" Connor interrupted him and the man startled.

He knocked even more of the crockery over and turned around in surprise. The Irishman glared at him and the other man widened his eyes in shock.

"What the fuck?! Who are you?" he exclaimed and a dark smirk crossed Connor's face.

"The one who puts a bullet t'yer head" he answered and pulled the trigger. Jimbo was thrown back, blood and pieces of his skull and brains splattered all over the wall cupboards behind him. For a second both men looked at each other, then the member of the group fell lifeless to the ground. Connor got closer to the body just to make sure the man was really dead. Jimbo's eyes were still open, but unfocused. The Irishman nudged him with his foot, but apart from drifting even further down the other man didn't move any more. Connor knelt down to strip him off his weapons, a small handgun and two knives, then he got up and left the kitchen through the backdoor.

* * *

The little girl's screams had eventually stopped. Daryl could feel how the zip tie cut his wrists because of all his struggling, but no matter how hard he fought, it wouldn't give in. He was yelling at them, over and over again, but they wouldn't stop. Whenever he screamed things like "Stop! Just stop you sick bastards! 'm gonna rip your heads off!" they laughed even more. It looked like they were even enjoying this sort of thing, sick bastards they were. Daryl couldn't understand how he had ended up here.   
  
He was Daryl Dixon after all. He wasn't supposed to be sitting here, tied to a chair and forced to watch how three men abused a little girl in the most inhuman way. He tried anything to stop them, he didn't even care if he cut his hands off because of that. _Where the fuck was the Irishman?!_ The whole thing was driving him insane. Ace, who had been the first to torture the girl, approached the hunter with a grin on his face and closed his zipper.

"Don't look at us like that, blanket" he said and chuckled. He leaned in and patted Daryl's cheek, grinning even more.

"We're just making sure the meat's well-done before we eat it."

Daryl gave the man a death glare, trying to kill him just by looking at him.

"'m gonna kill yah. 'm gonna kill every single one of yah sick bastards" he said, voice hoarse from all his screaming.

Ace clenched his fist and punched his face hard, which made Daryl groan.

"Now, this isn't the way yer supposed t'talk to people who've invited you t'stay for dinner" he said and grabbed the hunter by his throat.  
Daryl spat blood in his face and glared at him.

"'m gonna cut yah balls off and let yah have 'em for dinner when I'm done with yah" he growled and would not stop glaring at the leader of the gang.

Ace wouldn't hit him again, he just started grinning again and patted his cheek.

"You got some balls for someone with a blanket" he said and started walking again. He chuckled slowly and shook his head.

"You remind me of this guy we met once.." he said and sat down on one of the armchairs opposite Daryl.

"We got thrown out of group because of that moron" he went on and the whole group started muttering.

Ace looked at Daryl and grabbed one of the beer bottles that were standing on the table next to him.

"We had a nice life there. Group of 30. Men. Chicks. Gorgeous little girls..Guns. Food. Everything yah could ask for. But me and those shitheads over there" he said and pointed at the group of men who were still standing by the girl with grins on their faces. "We got bored. We wanted t'have some fun. Fun with people. We wanted entertainment...wanted t'entertain those poor souls out there. People like yah. Strangers, loners...so one day we came across this little camp, right? Daddy, two little chicks like this one here" Ace murmured and pointed at the crying girl by the fireplace. "We had our fun, 't was great. So after the show we got back t'our people. Two days later this guy stumbles into our camp. Told our people all 'bout it. Ain't the same ever since."

Daryl looked at them in surprise. Somehow this story seemed familiar.   
Men raping kids, forcing their fathers to watch just like they were forcing him to watch now...  
 _Where had he heard it before?_

"What I'd do t'get back there, man" the man with the eagle tattoo said and the others nodded.   
  
Ace nodded as well and leaned forward.

"Good people threw us out that day. Hunters, like yah. People who got us food in exchange for guns and shit. I got hungry mouths t'feed here.  
So don't judge us. We're just trying t'survive."

Daryl snorted angrily and shook his head.

"Yah sick fucks" he said and grunted when the long haired man everyone called FJ stepped forward and punched his guts hard.

Ace got up and approached the hunter again.

"So what 'bout you, blanket? You got a group? What do yah need those crutches for?"

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut in pain for a moment. He couldn't breathe because of the pain, but no matter how much it hurt, after a couple of seconds of gathering himself he looked up and glared at the leader. "Fuck you" he answered and FJ darted forward to punch him again, but Ace placed a hand on his chest and shook his head. "Get the girl" he growled and Daryl frowned.

"How many in your group?" he asked and the hunter glared at him.

"Fuck you" he growled once more and watched how FJ approached the girl, who started screaming again.

"You got any real bitches in your group? I'd kill for a real piece of flesh. Been months since I last got the chance t.."

"Shut up, Zach" Ace spat but wouldn't stop looking at Daryl.

FJ grabbed the screaming girl by her hair and dragged her to their leader, which made the hunter furious all over again.

"Let her go, yah sick fuck!" he spat and tried to get rid of the bond.

"Of course we're gonna let her go. If you give us something in exchange. Details on your group for the girl."

"Fuck you! I'm gonna rip your throat out!" Daryl yelled and fought so hard that he nearly knocked his chair over.   
  
Another member of the group, Henry, who hadn't said a word yet, approached the hunter as well and put him in a headlock again,   
forcing him to look at Ace who was now holding the girl.

"Where's your group?" he asked again and got his knife out, placing it on the terrified girl's throat.

The little girl was staring at Daryl with wide eyes, crying and begging him to help her.

"We're way too many for yah t'handle! Let her go you sick fuck or I swear..."

"Where are they?!" Ace yelled even louder and Daryl exploded.

"Nowhere! I ain't gonna tell yah!" he spat and started kicking and fighting all over again.  
  
He widened his eyes in shock when Ace yanked the girl's head back.

"No!" he screamed but it was too late.  
  
The leader of the gang cut her throat, blood staining his face and raining down on their other prisoner. Daryl wouldn't stop yelling and screaming, and the group started laughing again. Ace stabbed the back of the girl's head and dropped her dead body to the ground, then he cleaned his bloody knife on his jacket.

"Zach? Go 'n check what the fuck Jimbo's doing. Help him get our shit here. We're gonna prepare dinner in here this time. Sooner or later he's gonna talk" he said and glared at Daryl, who was still raging and fighting like a madman.

* * *

Daryl's screams were driving Connor nuts. It was getting dark outside by now, he could hardly see a thing anymore. He had made his way all around the house, slicing the wheels of the group's cars and making sure that there were no other people running in on them all of a sudden. As soon as he had made sure that there was no getting out for them he approached the only window where he could see light. He couldn't believe how stupid this group really was, how noisy and obvious they were. The Irishman noticed that there were more walkers around than when they had arrived here, and he was pretty sure that it wouldn't take too long before they finally closed in on them. Those stupid bastards were going to get them all killed.

He walked even faster when he heard how the screaming inside was getting louder. Connor widened his eyes in shock when he finally got to have a look inside. He could see that the group was indeed inside the common room. They had tied Daryl to a chair in the middle of the room, and the little girl was lying there to his feet, with its throat cut. Dead eyes were staring at him, judging him. He swallowed hard and got even more furious, but there was also a part of him that felt guilty. _You're too late. You're too slow._

" Zach? Go 'n see what the fuck Jimbo's doing. Help him get our shit here. We're gonna prepare dinner in here this time. Sooner or later he's gonna talk" he heard Ace say and watched how the man with the eagle tattoo left the room. He stayed for just a second longer just to make sure that no one else was going to leave the room, then he turned around and started running back to the door he had left the building through.

* * *

He couldn't believe how easy it really was. He could see the man with the tattoo, how he was making his way to the kitchen, his guard down, Daryl's crossbow thrown over his shoulder, no clue. Connor followed him, his steps matching the other's perfectly. Daryl had complained about his pace more than once today, calling him a troll and everything, but right now it didn't sound like this at all. He had to admit, even he had known that he hadn't been good at the whole sneaking around thing, but now that there were lives at stake he was moving almost as good as Daryl.

He was just waiting for the man to reach the kitchen, because he _wanted_ him to see what he had done to the other member of his group. So the Irishman followed his victim through the corridors, always careful not to be seen or heard. "Yo Jimbo! Hurry up you fucker! You know that Ace don't like to wait, man. He wants t'put up a show for that redneck!" Zach yelled half way down the corridor that led to the kitchen, and as soon as he reached the door Connor darted forward, grabbed the man by his shoulders and pressed his gun to his temple.

"Looks like Jimbo ain't coming, you sick fuck" he snarled and wrapped his arm so tight around the man's neck that he could hear him fighting for air.

"Any last words?" Connor growled and strangled him even more. Much to his surprise Zach just started laughing.

"You ain't getting outta here alive, mick"

Connor snorted and undid the safety of his gun.

"Neither are you" he said and shot him in the head.


	18. Folsom Prison Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! Pure Walking Saints! :D Song is "Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash.
> 
>  **setting:** between episode 2 " _Sick_ " and episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

**_two months ago..._ **

They found their yelping and whimpering dog with a walker on top of him. They didn't know how the undead woman had managed to catch him, but she was hovering over the animal and was already eating him. The worst part was that Hannibal was still alive and seemed to go through pure agony as the undead monster kept ripping and grabbing on his open belly.  
  
For a moment both Connor and Daryl just stood there behind her, absolutely horrified by all the screams of their new furry friend. It was the hunter who finally managed to move and do something about it. He aimed his crossbow at the back of the woman's head and then pulled the trigger, making her fall over and on top of the wailing dog. The shot finally seemed to snap Connor out of it as well, as he suddenly fell to his knees next to the animal.  
  
He grabbed the walker by her filthy long black hair and pulled her away so he could take a look at the damage she had made, and a loud gasp escaped his mouth. It was just like the night they had found Dale. The animal, lying on the ground. Its belly ripped wide open with its guts hanging out.

"No no no no no" Connor exclaimed and tried to move the dog, but when he wailed in pain again he let go of him.

He could see the terrible and ugly wound and knew that it was too late. Daryl watched the whole scenario and felt a big lump in his throat. Not only because he had come to love the dog more and more with every night the animal decided to sleep next to him, but also because he felt sorry for Connor.  
  
He had been the one who had brought the dog, he had been the one who had saved him, fed him and called him his friend. And now he had lost another loved one to a walker. _It was so unfair_. He watched how his friend started stroking the bloodied white fur of their dog, then he could hear a loud sniff. Before he even got the chance to say something Connor suddenly got up and walked past him.

"I'm so fuckin sick of this shit" he growled and walked away.

"Connor.." Daryl called after him but the Irishman kept walking, leaving the hunter alone with the wailing and injured animal.

Daryl turned his head and looked at Hannibal, and when he saw the pain in his eyes he decided to end it.  
He knelt down next to the dog and stroke his head as well, and even he was so upset that he almost teared up himself.

"I'm so sorry, buddy" he muttered and needed to choke a gentle sob when even now their furry friend would lick his hand.

There was blood on the dog's tongue and he kept whimpering and almost begging, and this made Daryl take his gun with a sigh.

"Maybe it's better that way" he went on, stroke the dog's head once more and then used the hand to cover the animal's eyes.

He then placed the gun on Hannibal's forehead, and after fighting tears for just another minute he finally pulled the trigger.

* * *

They buried the dog in the backyard of their firestation. They worked together on it without really speaking a word. Connor insisted that he wanted to dig the hole, and the way he held the shovel and stabbed the ground with it told Daryl that his friend was very angry, that he needed some space right now. The hunter was sitting on one of the plastic chairs they had found inside the garage and worked on a cross for the grave.  
  
It looked kind of cheap, considering that he used two of the many planks from the wooden fence that surrounded the yard. The younger of the two friends would look up every once in a while, hoping that maybe Connor was going to get better with each hour that passed. But the look on the Irishman's face wouldn't change. Daryl sighed and got up as soon as the cross was finished. He saw the bloody white bundle that lay next to the hole his friend was digging and decided that maybe it was his turn to talk.

"Y'know. Back when I was a kid, I found a dog, too" he said and could see that Connor was listening up.

"I was alone all the time. Cos my Dad kept drinking and left for weeks on end.  
Merle was nowhere in sight cos they'd locked him up again, and I had t'fend for myself."

There was silence for a while, and the hunter felt more and more uncomfortable.  
He still hated to talk about his past, but at the same time he just wanted to let his friend know that he could relate to how he was feeling right now.

"I was playin out in the woods when I found this little terrier. He'd run off, escaped some house down the neighbourhood. I took him home, fed him. Played with 'im. And..well this is gonna sound stupid, but I could relate to him. Poor bastard was covered in scars and cigarette burns."

Connor stopped digging and raised his head to look at his friend. Daryl shifted awkwardly and avoided direct eye contact, but he kept talking.

"Anyway. My dad came home about a week later and found 'im lying on his couch in the living room. I tried to explain it to him, but he went straight for his room, grabbed his hunting rifle and came back. Said there ain't no way he's gonna keep a flea-covered stinking little rug-muncher in our house. He forced me to shoot him dead."

The Irishman man stared at him with his intense blue eyes and shook his head.

"Fuck. How old were ye there?"

"Eight. But that ain't the point" Daryl answered but Connor was already getting back to digging the hole.

"I found out that that dog had run away from his old home because his owners had tried to drown him in their pool.  
He was gone just like that, and he found me instead."

The hunter put his hands in his pockets and looked at the bloody corpse of their dog which was lying to his feet now, with nothing but an old bed sheet covering him.

"I get that his death was fucked up. And I hate my father for what he's done. But that's not important. Cos I could give that dog one week of joy. I played with him. And he seemed to be so happy. He just wanted to have a friend. And just for one week he got that. He didn't have to drown and die a slow and painful death because of his abusive fucked up owners. There were no more cigarette burns and no more whipping. He had a great last week of his life."

Connor stopped digging again and looked at his friend once more.  
Daryl pressed his lips together and looked back at him, then he nodded at the corpse of the dog on the ground.

"That's just like that. Sometimes yah can't save them. Sometimes stupid circumstances make them die way before their time. But it's not about how they died, but about what kinda life they led before that. And I think that this one..you gave him a good couple of happy last months. You saved him from the walkers back then in that church. That's all that matters."

The two men stared at the dog for a moment and couldn't help but remember something else, because somehow this wasn't just about the dog anymore. This whole story sounded way too familiar, because it reminded them of their own.

"When yah brought him with you I didn't want him cos he reminded me too much of that dog and what happened.  
I didn't want it to happen again. But I'm glad I didn't make yah send him away again now."

Connor wiped the sweat off his forhead and then threw the shovel away with a gentle sigh.  
He was still upset because of the dog's death, but Daryl's words actually helped him a lot.  
He approached the edge of the grave and reached out.

"Okay. Hand him over."

It took them another thirty minutes to bury the dog, and once Daryl had put the cross into the ground both men just looked at it for a while. It was so strange to be alone again. Just the two of them, and walkers all around them in the neighborhood. And as they reflected on their loss and loneliness Daryl finally made the decision he had been thinking about for weeks now.

"I think we should go back to 'em."

* * *

**_now..._ **

"What's taking them so long?!" Ace spat and kept pacing up and down the room.

The leader of the group looked at the body of the dead girl on the ground, then he looked up to face the other two members of his group.  
FJ, the tallest and strongest of them all, shrugged.

"I don't know, brother. You know these two dumbasses. Always fighting over shit cos Jimbo ain't got no brains in his melon."

The other man, Henry, laughed but fell quiet when he saw the look on their leader's face. Daryl watched them through narrowed eyes, still trying to fight the zip tie, his hands bloody and numb. He prayed to god that Connor was still there, that he had killed the two men by now. No matter how angry he was, this idea was pleasing him so much that he couldn't fight the faint smile that broke through. _Oh the things he was going to do to them as soon as Connor freed him.._

Ace noticed the expression on his face and got closer to the hunter with an angry frown.

"What's so funny, you piece of shit?" he growled and got so close to Daryl's face that the hunter had to turn away.

He was furious and desperate, but even that couldn't keep him from laughing.

"Looks like your fellas went missin. World out there's dangerous, especially when yah all on your own.. " he said and Ace narrowed his eyes even more.

"'s there something you ain't telling us?"

Daryl chuckled and gave the man a death glare.

"Better go look for your little soldiers, don'tcha think?"

The leader of the gang gritted his teeth and struck out to punch the hunter. He was just about to hit him when all the lights in the room came back to life after flickering a couple of times. Ace, FJ and Henry looked up in surprise to stare at the flickering luster. Daryl was just as surprised. He turned his head to see what was going on outside.  
  
The outdoor lighting in the park had come back to life as well, revealing several walkers that were staggering around the woods and park behind the mansion. No matter how much he loved his friend for scaring the shit out of the gang right now, he didn't exactly want a herd of walkers to run in on them. Especially now that he was cuffed to a chair and his crossbow and knife were _gone_. Ace finally punched him in the face and pressed his knife to Daryl's throat.

"Who came with you?"

Daryl chuckled again, now that he saw how surprised and scared they were.

"You're gonna bite the dust soon. Just like yer two little faggy friends. Go on. Have a look yourself.  
I bet they're lying on the kitchen floor right now, with bullets in their heads."

Ace growled and wrapped his free hand around the hunter's throat to strangle him.

"How many are there?" he growled and strangled Daryl a little while longer, until the hunter started kicking and fighting for air.

When Ace finally let go their prisoner started coughing and gasping.

"How many?!" the leader of the gang spat and Daryl smirked.

"Just one. Ain't gonna take more for yah hicks."

The leader of the group snorted and got back up to look at the other two men. "Just one he says" he repeated and grinned. The others took it as signal that they were supposed to laugh, so they did. They startled when a radio started playing somewhere on the floor above them, making the ceiling vibrate with every beat.

" _I hear the train a comin'. It's rollin' 'round the bend, And I ain't seen the sunshine, Since, I don't know when, I'm stuck in Folsom Prison..._ "

"He's upstairs!" Henry yelled and stared at the ceiling. Ace, FJ and Daryl did the same. Especially the hunter was confused. _What the fuck was Connor playing at? Could he be any more obvious? Did he really think they were stupid enough to go upstairs? The trap was so obvious that it was just plain stupid._ A gentle bang behind Daryl made them all turn around. They could see that the walkers in the park were getting attracted by the noise the radio was making. They were slowly staggering in their direction and started banging on the windows behind them. Ace cursed.

"Fucker's drawing them all to us!" he growled and looked at his group.

"Henry, you come with me. We're gonna hunt this asshole down. And we gotta turn this fucking thing off. I don't want any more biters here.  
FJ, you stay, keep an eye on our meat."

" _When I was just a baby, My Mama told me, 'Son, Always be a good boy, Don't ever play with guns,' But I shot a man in Reno, Just to watch him die..."_

Daryl snorted and shook his head. _Dramatic fucker._

FJ looked at his prisoner and aimed one of the group's shotguns at him as soon as Ace and Henry had left the room to go and hunt down Connor.

"Won't be laughing for too long now, sunny. I know Ace, 's got something nice waitin for yah friend. One time he made this one guy eat his buddy.." the man said and grinned.

Daryl shrugged and looked at the man opposite him, obviously not feeling threatened at all.

"Yeah, and I know _my_ buddy. Yer not the first bunch of sickos he's killed. We got some special treatment for yah as well."

FJ chuckled.

"Ace's right. You got some balls for someone who's just about to get eaten."

He checked his shotgun and approached Daryl with a grin.

"How 'bout we have some fun in the meantime?"

The hunter gave him a death glare and watched him come closer.

"Fuck off or I swear.."

FJ laughed and reached for his knife.

"Come on, don't be so shy, blanket."

Daryl tried to move out of his way, but it was impossible for him to move the chair.

"Fuck off!" he yelled once more and FJ grinned.

"Let's just..."

He was interrupted mid sentence when an arrow hit the back of his head and traveled all the way through his brain, exiting his skull through his forehead. The man widened his eyes in shock and fell to his knees. He was dead before he even hit the ground. Daryl gasped and looked at the dead body to his feet. When he looked back up he could see Connor standing there by the door, his crossbow pointed right at him. The hunter struggled impatiently.

"It's 'bout fuckin time!" he growled and Connor rushed to help him.

"Didn't I tell yah t'keep yer mits off my crossbow?!" Daryl complained even more and Connor hushed him angrily.

"Fuckin be quiet. They're gonna be here any minute now" he whispered and cut the zip tie.

Daryl let out a sigh of relief and grabbed his aching wrists. Connor cut the ropes that tied the hunter to the legs of the chair and turned around again to see if the remaining members of the gang were back yet. He turned his head to look at Daryl and gave him his crossbow back.

"I killed the baldhead and the one with the tattoo. Big boss and metalhead went upstairs."

Both men looked up at the ceiling when they heard how the radio was switched off.

Daryl nodded and went to get the arrow that was still stuck in FJ's head.

"Plan?"

Connor quickly reloaded his gun and looked at the door once more.

"We can't stay here fer t'long. Walkers are on their way here. But we gotta kill those motherfuckers before we leave."

Daryl put a new arrow in his crossbow and nodded.

"Gonna do more than that" he growled and looked at Connor.

"Okay. You go and hide right by that door. 'm gonna stay right here. Put an arrow through metalhead's brains as soon as they enter.  
Yer gonna knock big boss out. Don't kill 'im. I got my plans for that fucker."

Connor nodded and positioned himself by the door. For a couple of minutes they remained completely silent and just listened. They could hear some of the walkers banging on the doors and windows that were facing the park, and when the Irishman looked to the ground he could see the mutilated body of the little girl again. _Why the fuck didn't I come here earlier?_ he thought and shook his head angrily.  
  
Those bastards were going to _pay_ for that. After a couple of minutes of just waiting patiently they could hear the other two men coming back. Connor turned his head and looked at Daryl for a second, putting a finger on his lips and nodding. Daryl nodded back and adjusted his crossbow, whereas the Irishman grabbed his gun tighter.

"FJ! Fucker was right! Jimbo and Zach are dead! This motherfucker! Let's kill the redneck. Spill his guts all over the floor in the hall so that asshole can see what we're capable of! No one kills my boys!" Ace yelled and they could hear how something was knocked over in the hall. When Ace and Henry finally entered the common room both widened their eyes in surprise and grabbed their guns, but Daryl and Connor were faster. The hunter took aim and shot Henry in the head, and Connor darted forward and knocked Ace out with a brutal blow to the back of his head. Daryl threw his crossbow over his shoulder and approached the two men on the ground to get his arrow back. Connor sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Well, that was easier than I thought" he murmured and grabbed Ace by his feet to drag him to the chair they had used to keep Daryl tied up before. The hunter moved and helped his friend after a moment, and together they placed the unconscious man on the chair, using anything they could find to tie him up. Connor was busy tying the man's feet to the chair when he saw the cuts on Daryl's arms.

"Yer alright?" he murmured and Daryl just grunted as an answer, wrapping the rope even tighter around their prisoners wrists.

The Irishman got back up and eyed the walkers outside.

"We ain't got much time" he observed and looked at his friend.

"What d'ye wanna do with him?" he asked and pointed at unconscious Ace. Daryl just stared at the man.

"We're gonna kill him" he said determinedly and Connor nodded.

"Aye. 'f course" he murmured and looked at the dead girl again. Daryl did the same.

"We gotta wait for 'im t'wake up. There's some shit I gotta do" the hunter said and looked at his friend, who looked back at him and nodded.

"When 'm done we're gonna kill him yer way" Daryl went on and Connor frowned.

"My way?"

The hunter nodded.

"Yeah. I want yah t'do yer whole package this time. We gotta let it...sink in."

Connor just looked at his friend for a while. He didn't get why Daryl would want him to do that all of a sudden. He was confused, but nodded in the end.

"Okay."

* * *

They woke their prisoner up by pouring water over his head. Ace gasped loudly and blinked a few times, searching the room in horror.  
He fixed his eyes on Daryl, who was standing right in front of him and gave him a death glare. The hunter leaned forward and stared at the man.

"Morning, blanket" Daryl growled and Ace narrowed his eyes. When he saw who was lying on the ground behind Daryl he started cursing and kicking.

"No! You motherfuckers! My brother! You killed my brother, my group!"

He yelped when Connor, who was standing right behind him, grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back.  
The Irishman forced him to look at the dead girl on the ground.

"Ye killed this little girl. She was innocent and you scumbags raped 'n killed her. Ye don't get t'complain" he growled and shoved the man's head away.

Ace just started laughing.

"And I enjoyed every minute of it, mick"

Daryl snapped and punched the man right in the face. Ace growled and spit a teeth out, then he started laughing again.

"What? I saw the look on your face, blanket. Yah seemed t'enjoy it, too. Yah should've heard 'em, mick. How she was screaming all the way through it...fuckin beautiful" he laughed and Daryl punched him once more. Connor grabbed the man by his hair again and looked him in the eye.

"Yer gonna pay fer this in hell you sick fuck. 'm gonna make sure of that."

Ace just laughed once more.

"'m gonna greet yer bitch mother when 'm there. Maybe have some fun with her as well. Should be one hell of a ride."

Connor growled and let go of the man, trying his hardest not to grab his knife and cut Ace's throat.

"Shut up" Daryl demanded and Ace grinned at him.

"Did yah enjoy our show, blanket? Sure as hell look like the kinda guy who likes little bitches.." the last remaining member of the gang chuckled and Daryl gave him a death glare. For a couple of seconds Connor watched how the two men glared at each other. Then, without a warning, Daryl moved faster than lightning, grabbed his knife and stabbed their prisoner right between his legs.  
  
Ace started screaming and wailing in pain and Connor moved a few inches, reaching out to stop Daryl. Then he saw the little girl on the ground again, how broken and battered she was, what those bastards had done to her. He remembered her screams and looked at Daryl, who was giving him a death glare. The Irishman pressed his lips together and withdrew again, watching how his friend started mutilating their prisoner.

Ace's screams got louder and more insane with every second that passed, and when the Irishman finally realized how sick and wrong the whole thing really was it was already over. Daryl had used his knife like a barbarian butcher, cutting off Ace's manhood with an unreadable expression on his face. When he finally withdrew with a bloody mess in his hands and got back up to his feet he started stuffing the remains in Ace's mouth.  
  
The prisoner was still screaming and struggling in pure agony and disgust, but Daryl eventually took control over him. He made sure that every last piece was stuck in the leader's mouth, then he grabbed the man's bandana and used it as a gag to keep everything in. The hunter wiped his bloody hands and walked around the crying prisoner. Without asking he reached for Connor's leg holster to get the gun that was still stuck in there, then he walked back to Ace. He placed the gun on the back of his head and looked at his friend, waiting for him to come over as well.

"Do it" he demanded and Connor looked at the bloody mess in front of him.

"Come on, we ain't got all day!" the hunter spat and Connor sighed, taking his gun and placing himself right next to Daryl.

The hunter nodded and undid the safety of his gun.

"Say your stuff and let it _sink in_."

The Irishman just looked at his friend a little while longer, trying to understand him, trying to see anything right in what had just happened. In the end he knew that he wasn't innocent at all here. He had kind of known that Daryl had been planning on doing something like this. Connor took a deep breath and placed his gun right next to the one Daryl was holding. They could still hear Ace crying and wailing in agony, and he knew that he needed to end it now. Everything else was just torture, and he _hated_ torture. He pulled both his rosaries out and looked at the back of the man's head.

"And shepherds we shall be, for thee my lord, for thee.."

It was strange to say the words all on his own, now that there was a man standing right next to him who looked like Murphy.  
Murphy, who was supposed to be with him here right now. Murphy, who knew the prayer. Murphy, whose gun he was holding now.

"Power hath descended forth from thy hand, our feet may swiftly carry out thy command."

Daryl just stood there and listened. Although he didn't really know the prayer, he knew when he was supposed to pull the trigger. He had never been a fan of Connor's stupid work, his beliefs, his prayers, but right now he just wanted that man in front of him to suffer. He knew that he would only get his friend to let their prisoner suffer by getting him to waste more time on saying his prayer. So he stood there and waited, wanting these last couple of seconds to be the most horrible seconds of the man's life.

"So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patris et Filii..."

Connor nudged Daryl to let him know that they were about to pull the trigger.

"Et Spiritus Sancti."

* * *

They took the body of the little girl with them when they fled the mansion that was slowly being overrun by walkers. It had been Connor's idea, or more like he had just taken her with him. Daryl eventually got the crutches back, they had come to this dreadful place because of them after all. They thanked god that they had parked their car right in front of the door, and before they could even really process what had happened they were back on the road again.  
  
Daryl was the one driving the Hyundai away at full speed, and soon the Woods mansion disappeared in their rearview mirror. They had been driving for about half an hour when Connor shifted in his seat. Neither of them had said a single word, but then something caught the Irishman's attention.

"Pull over. Right there" he said and pointed at a junction in front of them. Daryl frowned and looked at his friend.

"What? That ain't the way back t'the prison."

Connor glared at him and nodded.

"I fuckin know. Just, pull over."

Daryl frowned, but then he saw it, too.  
There was a small church by the side of the road just outside the village they had just passed.

"Really?" the hunter growled, but did as he was told.

Connor nodded and looked in the rearview mirror, where he could see the body of the girl lying there on the backseat, covered with a blanket.

"Aye, really."

* * *

The sun was already rising again when they were finally done with the grave. Connor had chosen a small hill close to the church, right in the middle of a meadow. Now that the sun was up again even Daryl had to admit that the place was beautiful, especially now that there were hardly any walkers out in the open. The Irishman was still inside the hole, digging just a little bit more while Daryl carried the body of the girl over to the place that would soon be her grave.  
  
No matter how much he had complained about it at first, how much he had wanted to just get back to the prison, now he was glad that they had taken her with them. He knew that his friend was right. After everything the girl had been through, after everything he had seen, it was the right thing to give her some sort of peace.

Connor threw the shovel out of the grave and walked over to the end of the hole, reaching up so Daryl could hand the body over. The hunter knelt down and handed him the little girl. He watched how the Irishman put her in the hole, and it was rather grotesque to see how gentle he could be after all the people he had killed today.  
  
The blonde put the girl in her grave and crossed her fragile arms over her chest, then he stroke her bloody hair out of her face, got back up and crossed himself, murmuring a quick prayer while doing so. Connor turned around and reached out for Daryl, and after hesitating for a second the hunter pulled him back up and out of the grave. He winced when the cuts on his wrists hurt because of the strain, but when Connor wanted to say something he was already heading for the shovel.

"'m gonna bury her" he growled and started putting the dirt back in the hole.

The Irishman put his hands in his pockets and watched his friend for a bit, then he turned his head and looked at the church to his right.  
He sighed and turned around to start walking.

"Be back in a minute" he murmured and headed for the church. Daryl got up and eyed him with a frown.

"Where the fuck are yah going now?" he shouted after him, and when Connor just pointed at the church he rolled his eyes angrily.

"Fuckin moron. Probably getting us killed. Again" he growled and kept digging, hurrying up just a little bit more so neither of them would be alone for too long after everything that had happened last night.

* * *

"Forgive me father, fer I have sinned. I don't know how many days it's been since my last confession."

Connor looked at the cross in front of him. He didn't really remember the last time he had been kneeling in front of an altar like that.  
He had been repeating his prayers over and over again, but even that wouldn't take the guilt away.

"I killed four men taday" he went on and closed his eyes again.

"They raped and killed an innocent girl 'n threatened my friend" he murmured and shook his head. Just thinking about it made him angry again.

"I watched how he tortured a man and didn't do anything about it. I wanted that evil bastard to suffer."

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"I just stood there and watched. Just like I did in Boston."

Connor didn't want to remember all the things he had done wrong ever since the apocalypse had happened.  
He stared at the cross again, and he was surprised when he realized that he was really worried.

"'m heading down a dangerous path, father. Because Murph..."

He startled when he could hear the creaking of the door behind him and fell quiet, knowing that it was Daryl.

The hunter stopped walking when he saw Connor in front of the altar, staring at the cross in front of him. He had heard his friend talking, but as soon as he had entered the church Connor fell quiet. Daryl didn't really want to disturb his friend's prayers, now that he knew that they were still very important to him, but in the end he knew that they needed to keep moving. The group was probably waiting for them by now, maybe they were worried and had gone looking for them already. The sooner they got back to the prison the better. Just for a second he had to stop, though. He watched how Connor prayed quietly and couldn't help but remember.

He remembered that day all too clearly, when they had found the Irishman in a church almost a year ago, all skin and bones and filthy and depressed. Christ, how much shit had happened ever since that day. How much the Irishman had changed since that day, how much he had changed him. Daryl still thought that Connor's whole praying and believing stuff was bullshit, but he also knew that they never would have crossed paths if it weren't for churches and praying.  
  
So he just watched his friend for a bit, remembering that day, and no matter how pissed and frustrated and confused he was right now, he still couldn't help but feel glad and relieved that the Irishman was still with him, that he had met him in the first place. Daryl waited patiently, and Connor got up eventually. The Irishman got up and crossed himself, and when he kissed the feet of the Christ statue Daryl rolled his eyes. He wouldn't say anything when Connor came back and nudged his chest with a gentle "Let's go."

The hunter just looked at the Christ statue a little while longer, judging him. _If you really are there, then what kinda sick fuck are you bastard. Why would you let any of that shit happen_ he thought and shook his head angrily. Yeah, he still didn't get why Connor would believe in someone as twisted and cold as this so called god. Daryl didn't wait for an answer or an epiphany, he turned around and followed his friend back outside instead.

* * *

"Do ye wanna talk?"

Daryl just stared at the road in front of him. The sun was shining again, they were on their way back to the prison.  
Connor was driving this time, looking at his friend every now and then to make sure he was alright.  
The hunter snorted tiredly and looked out of the window to his right.

"Fuck you, I ain't such a cryin wuss like yah who needs t'talk 'bout his whiny feelings all the time" he growled and was surprised when Connor wouldn't say anything to that. When the hunter finally turned his head to look at his friend he saw the Irishman looking at the road in front of him. There was no stupid grin on his face, no silly jokes or insults would come. Daryl sighed and looked at the road as well.

"Guess I was wrong last year" he murmured after a while and Connor frowned.

"'bout what?"

The hunter shrugged.

"Maybe yah got all the sneaking and hunting in yah after all."

Connor smirked.

"Aye, 'f course. Took out three of those fuckers. All on me own."

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Stop bragging about and let me finish, dumbass."

The Irishman chuckled.

"Thanks for saving my ass back there. They could've killed you if it weren't for you sneaking up on them like that" the hunter murmured and looked at him.

Connor smirked even more.

"Well, I learned from the best."

Daryl turned his head away and didn't say anything for a while. They were driving through the woods when he finally nodded.  
  
"Yeah" Connor heard the hunter say then.  
  
Daryl wouldn't say anything after that, neither would he look at him. The Irishman sighed and looked back at the road.

"Besides, you saved my ass plenty 'f times. Bout time I saved yers fer once" he answered and the other man snorted.

"Yeah, except that I wouldn't have needed no rescue if it weren't for yah stupid crutches and plans all the time."

Connor stared straight at the road and swallowed hard.

"Aye. Sorry 'bout that."

There was silence for a while until Connor let out a gentle sigh.

"Remember Hannibal and what ye said ta me that day we couldn't save him and had ta bury him?" he asked and Daryl just looked at him without saying anything. Connor grabbed the steering wheel a bit tighter and kept turning his head so he could look at both the road and his friend.

"Maybe that's just like that. I get that yer upset because of the girl, but you tried yer best. Maybe we sh.."

"It was a girl, not a fucking dog. Now shut up and drive. I told yah I ain't gonna talk about it" Daryl interrupted his friend and turned his head to ignore him.


	19. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

Connor stopped the car right in front of the gates. It was suspiciously quiet this morning, and there were hardly any walkers by the fences. The Irishman turned his head to look at Daryl, who was sitting right next to him on the passenger seat. The hunter had put his feet up on the dashboard and stared out of the window to his right, watching the walkers tiredly. Connor switched the engine off and sighed.

"Looks like they're still sleeping" he murmured and tried to make out any member of their group.

Someone had to keep watch after all. Daryl didn't answer, which was why the blonde turned his head to look at his friend.

"Are ye alright?"

Daryl snorted and finally looked at the man next to him.

"I already told yah. Fuckers are dead. End of story. Move on."

"Aye, but.."

"I said shut up" Daryl spat and glared at the Irishman.

Connor was quite surprised because of this sudden outburst, but decided to leave it be.  
He snorted and opened the door.

"Alright. Fuck you then" he growled and walked up to the gate in front of their car.

Daryl stayed where he was and just watched his friend. Truth was that he wasn't alright at all. Of course he wasn't. He had watched how a bunch of psychos had raped and murdered an innocent girl right in front of his eyes. She had been just about Sophia's age. _The second girl in a row which he hadn't been able to save._  
  
During the hour they had been driving back to the prison he had heard her screams and pleas over and over again. He remembered how he had just been _sitting_ there. How he had failed to fight any of them. How Connor had taken out _three_ of them. All on his own. _And what had he done?_ Killed one of them. Just one.

Once again he felt like a complete and utter failure.

 _All them years I spent trying to make a man outta you, and this is what I get? h_ e remembered Merle's words and got angry.

The hunter kicked the dashboard hard and cursed. He was so furious. So incredibly mad. Daryl hated Connor for making him go to this shithole, hated him for not being the one that had been strapped to the chair. _How could this be? How could a whiny asshole, who had been so weak once that he had actually tried to take his own life, be the strong hero of the day? Why not him?_  
  
He was Daryl Dixon. Everyone thought that he was a tough guy. Rick, T-Dog, hell, even Connor had always respected him because of his strength and will power. He was supposed to be the lifesaver here. He was supposed to be the one who had saved an innocent girl.

Just once he had wanted to be the one who was bringing a girl back home. And here he was. Tending his bloody wrists. Watching how Connor was the one doing all the work again. The world went to shit around them, and they kept losing more and more innocent, good people. And he was just sitting here, crying over some bloody fingers. He growled and clenched his fists. _Oh how he hated everything right now. How he hated Connor for the fact that this whiny stupid depressed suicidal asshole was okay whereas he wasn't. This wasn't supposed to happen. His anger was all Connor's fault._

Daryl got up and opened the door. He saw the Irishman by the gate, with both his hands on the wires, trying to open the locks.  
The blonde turned his head when he heard how his friend closed the door behind him and approached him.

"Rick 'n co locked it tight. Looks like we gotta make them notice us. What do ye think, should we risk honking te horn?  
I don't wanna spend the whole morning out here in the open waiting fer walkers t'attack us.."

"You wanna talk?" Daryl growled and approached his friend.

Connor turned around and frowned.

"Well, aye, sure. If ye wanna..." he gasped when Daryl shoved him back against the fence.

"This is all your fault!" the hunter spat and shoved him again. His friend looked at him, confusion written all over his face.

"What?"

"We went to this fucked up mansion because of you retard! Because you wanted to go into town and I had to come up with an excuse to keep you from going there! And where did that get us?! This.." he spat and showed Connor his bloody wrists. "...and the whole bullshit with the girl wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you!"

The Irishman got angry as well and shoved his friend back.

"What te fuck are ye on about all of a sudden?! I saved yer ass! If it weren't fer me ye would be a human happy meal by now you fucking asshole!"

"They should've got yah instead!" Daryl spat and punched his friend in the face.

Connor grabbed his chin and gave his friend a death glare.

"Well, if ye really think that they should've killed me instead of tha girl then ye should've pulled the trigger when ye had the fucking chance."

Daryl narrowed his eyes and both men just glared at each other, and for a second Daryl considered throwing his friend to the ground and getting into a fight with him. It wasn't that he _hated_ Connor. Now he realized that this wasn't about the Irishman at all. It was about his own failure and frustration in general, and he had to admit that he missed the old times when it had been so easy to let it out on his friend.  
  
Almost a year ago. When he hadn't _cared_ about Connor yet. When it had been so easy to let the anger escape through his fists.   
Part of him was just waiting for the blonde to throw the first punch, and he knew that it just took one more sentence to make it happen.

"Yeah, looks like I should've. Cos you know what? You're the reason innocent 'n good people like the girl get killed. _You're_ the reason _I_ almost got killed. Because you're never fast enough! If you'd been running faster then you could have saved this stupid dog a couple of months ago. If you'd been running faster then you could've saved the girl from getting her throat cut and you could've saved yourself from this bite on your arm! And why'd you think your brother died, huh? Because _you're always too fucking slow_!" he said and this was all it took.

The Irishman growled and darted forward, making them both fall to the ground. "Shut up!" Connor spat and started punching him hard and mercilessly. For a couple of minutes both men were rolling around on the ground, throwing punches and insults at each other until Connor took over and grabbed Daryl by his vest.

"So maybe I was too fucking slow ta save them, but I saved _your_ ass. You weren't strong enough t'get this shit done on yer own. Now get over it.  
And don't you fucking dare talk about m'brother again or I swear t'god 'm gonna kill you next."

Daryl snorted and looked up at the man on top of him.

"Yeah, cos _your_ gonna kill _me._ "

Connor shoved him back against the ground and moved closer to give him a death glare.

"And ye think yer the only one who can try t'kill me and tell me that he wants me dead?"

"Guys?"

Both men glared at each other for a little while longer, then they turned their heads to see what was going on. They could see Glenn and Maggie walking down the road to the gate. Connor turned his head to look at Daryl again and got up with a final shove. Daryl remained on the ground for a second longer and stared up at the sky. He could feel how the anger was fading after their fight. His face and chest hurt because of all the punches, but somehow it was a good feeling. When he sat up he saw that Connor was talking to Glenn and Maggie by the gate.

"Sorry it's taken us so long t'get back here, can ye open the gate fer us?" he murmured and looked at Glenn.

He and his girlfriend were looking at Daryl for a second, then the man on the other side of the gate looked at the Irishman.

"What happened? We were worried sick. Rick wanted to go out and look for you today" he said and unlocked the gate.

Connor sighed and stepped back so they could open the gate.

"Long story. We got ambushed. But we're okay. Considering.."

"And what was the whole rolling in the dirt thing about?" Maggie asked and looked at both him and Daryl.

Connor snorted and turned around to head for the car.

"Just like I said. Long fucking story."

* * *

Daryl's mood eventually changed again. The bad thing was that he and Connor didn't talk. Again. Just days after finally talking again after all the drama with the bite and the group they were already back to this again. The silence. The not talking. The being pissed all the time. Daryl still didn't want to leave the group because he liked it here, but Connor was right about one thing. The whole being with the group but at the same time being close friends thing didn't work like it had worked back at the firestation, back at the house or wherever they had spent the winter together.

Soon after both friends had returned to the prison the rest of the group had come outside as well, since Rick wanted to get started on the whole moving cars and bodies thing early. Daryl decided to stay outside, whereas Connor made his way inside the prison to give Herschel the crutches they had brought with them. They moved the bus away from the gate, and the more the hunter thought about their fight the more he came to the conclusion that he had been an ass. It hadn't been his first fight with Connor. He didn't even know how many times they had managed to get into fist fights, but somehow this one felt slightly different.

The hunter knew his friend too well by now, and if there was one character trait that he liked about the Irishman then it was his ability to not be resentful for too long. Daryl looked forward to making it up again, simply because their idea of making it up basically meant not talking about it at all and just going back to their usual jokes and teasing. And maybe it could involve some smokes and some booze. He put the chains away which he had used to tow the bus. _Yeah, he knew that it was his turn to make up for it._ Especially for the whole brother thing. He hated himself for bringing Connor's brother up all the time. He knew how much it still hurt his friend after all.

"Okay, let's get the other cars in. We'll park them in the west entry of the yard" Rick announced and Daryl nodded and put his hands on his hips.

"Good. Our vehicles camped out there look like a giant vacancy sign" the hunter answered and looked at all the cars that were still surrounding them. He didn't like the idea of them being parked right there. For one because he didn't want anyone to steal them and also because he didn't want any other outsiders to be drawn to the prison, people like the ones he had met yesterday. Just thinking about any of them coming close to their prison, to their women and Carl, made him both angry and nervous. Rick nodded and walked up the hill to point at all the bodies of the walkers they had shot three days ago.

"After that, we need to load up these corpses so we can burn them."

"Gonna be a long day" T-Dog murmured and Rick nodded.

"Yeah. We'll get the others here as well. We need everyone to help so we can get this done today. We'll get firewood first, after that we're gonna pile them up."

Daryl nodded and turned around when he heard how Carol placed herself next to him and started talking.

"Where's Glenn and Maggie? We could use some help" she said and the hunter pointed at the guard tower in front of them.

"Up in that guard tower."

"Guard tower?" Rick asked and looked at the tower as well.

"They were just up there last night."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah. They let me 'n Connor in this morn. Went straight back up there as soon as we set foot on the this ground. Glenn! Maggie!" he yelled because their whole hanky-panky was getting ridiculous. They waited for a while until Glenn opened the door. Daryl snorted and shook his head when he saw how the man on top of the tower was fiddling about with his pants, bare-chested and hair all over the place.

"Hey, what's up, guys?"

Daryl smirked.

"You coming?"

T-Dog and Rick chuckled, whereas Daryl wanted to mentally slap himself. He hated how Connor was rubbing off on him. Now he was getting started on the whole innuendo thing as well. Part of him regretted that his friend wasn't with them right now, because he was absolutely sure that the Irishman would have a field day this very moment.

"What?" Glenn yelled back and the others laughed even more.

"You comin'? Come on, we could use a hand" Daryl repeated and turned around again to get to their vehicles.

* * *

When Connor entered the cell block he saw that Carl was sitting on the stairs. He was working on his gun, and when he looked up the little boy started grinning and got up. "There you are! I thought you left us" he said and approached the Irishman. Connor let out a deep sign as he made his way down the hall. For the first time in his life he was glad to be back inside a prison, a place which he now considered their home. He smirked and patted Carl's hat on his way to Herschel's cell.

"Don't worry little man, I ain't going nowhere" he said and Carl went after him.

Rick's son took a look at the crutches in his hands.

"Where did you get them from? What happened?"

Connor looked at the boy.

"Doesn't matter where I got them from. What matters is that I got 'em, aye? Now, how's our old man?"

"I heard that" they could hear Herschel say from inside his prison cell. The Irishman chuckled and entered the room. The father of the Greene sisters was still lying on the bed, but when he saw Connor he sat up slowly and carefully. Beth and Lori where sitting by his bed, and when Rick's wife saw the blonde she got up and approached him. "There you are! We heard that you got ambushed, are you alright?" she asked and eyed him head to toe. Connor nodded with a tired smirk on his face and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Aye, we did, but it's okay. 'm fine. Daryl's pretty much fine as well. We got ye those, Herschel" he announced and showed the old man the crutches.

"Took you long enough" Herschel grunted and Connor snickered. Lori took the crutches.

"Thank you" she said to the Irishman and gave them to their doctor.

"Just take your time."

Herschel tried to sit up, but when he almost fell both Beth and Connor darted forward to help him.

"Daddy, don't push yourself" Beth said and the Irishman placed a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Woah, easy there, Herschman. Take it easy."

Herschel snorted and kept going.

"What else am I going to do? I can't stand looking up at the bottom of that bunk any longer" he grunted and Connor helped him up. Beth and Lori tried to help as well, with worried looks on their faces. The Irishman wouldn't stop smiling, though. He was proud of himself and Daryl for actually doing something useful for their group, that everything that had gone wrong hadn't been for nothing. He knew that Daryl was still mad at him because of the crutches, that he thought that they weren't worth the effort they had put into this, but the Irishman thought different. Connor knew that Herschel needed crutches if he ever wanted to walk again.   
  
He _needed_ to walk in fact, because they could never be too careful and walkers could be attacking them any second now. Crutches could be real lifesavers these days, so of course it had been worth it. It made him angry that Daryl didn't seem to get that. This was also the first time the group really let him near them, and although this was a pretty silly thing it still made him happy. It felt like the group was adjusting to his situation and finally seemed to find his strange immunity useful instead of dangerous and creepy. Connor and Lori helped the old man for a little while longer, and pretty soon Herschel was confident enough and could actually move out of his cell.

"You know, think I'm pretty steady" the old man observed and looked at his helpers to signalize them that he wanted to go on his own.

"That's a good start" Lori said and smiled at both Herschel and Connor. The Irishman nodded as well and patted Herschel's back.

"Aye, that's the spirit. Yer a real fighter! That's what we need!"

"Do you want to take a rest now?" Rick's wife offered and Connor looked at her.

"Now come on, Lori. Look at te man! He's only getting started! I didn't get those crutches fer a five second walk, right Herschel?"

The old man nodded.

"Damn right. Let's go for a little stroll."


	20. Invasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

When they opened the door to the stairs that led them back outside they could see how the others were moving all the cars around. T-Dog was busy parking Rick's van, and when they looked over to the other side of the fences they could see that Rick, Daryl and Glenn were getting firewood. Connor had let go of Herschel, now that he saw that the old man was pretty steady on his feet. Beth and Lori were still trying to help him, and when the Irishman noticed how Lori was trying to walk down the stairs backwards he approached her.

"Hey, no walking backwards. Especially not down the stairs. What if ye trip and fall down.   
Yer fucking pregnant" he admonished her and Herschel nodded.

"It's fine. I can walk by myself."

Lori stepped back and let the Irishman go first.

"I got you here if you need it" Rick's wife reassured Herschel and waited for him and Connor to pass her so she could walk down the stairs after them.

"Just take your time on these steps" Beth said and placed her hand on her father's back.

The old man almost lost his balance and Connor held him in place with a grunt.  
He grabbed Herschel by his shoulder and arm and tried to help him down the stairs.

"Nah, women, eh? We got this. Don't worry. Just hop down. I had a sprained ankle once, ye know? After I jumped off a roof. And I remember how fuckin hard it was t'get up some stairs. Needed my brother t'help me as well. So I can feel yer pain, Herschel. But you are one tough fucker, I give ye that."

Herschel looked at him with an angry frown.

"Watch your tongue, boy. There's kids around us."

Connor smirked and looked at Lori and Carl who were right behind them. Herschel wasn't the first to complain about his choice of words, Rick's wife had given him more than one lecture on the whole topic. She pointed at him and placed a hand on her belly.

"She can hear you as well. You better stop or we won't let you anywhere near her. Don't spoil my children."

The Irishman chuckled.

"Don't worry, Lori. I already had a talk with yer boy. I told him not t'swear like me or else I'm gonna tell ye his secrets.  
I got everything under control with the kids."

"I told you not to tell her!" Carl protested and Connor chuckled, remembering the talk they'd had back at the warehouse just a couple of days before the prison. He ruffled Carl's hair and then grinned even more when he saw how much the boy hated that.

"You cleared all those bodies out?" Herschel interrupted them when they reached the ground.

"It's starting to look like a place we could really live in" he noticed and Connor let go of him to light a cigarette.

He put it in his mouth with a smile on his face, but when he noticed the look Lori was giving him and how she was rubbing her belly he let go of the cigarette and growled.

"Yes, mother.." he murmured and approached the gate in front of them when he saw Daryl on the other side of the property. His friend, Rick and Glenn were carrying even more firewood inside. There still hadn't been a chance to talk ever since their fight this morning, and right now he regretted that he had decided to stay with Herschel and the girls for a bit. The whole searching for firewood thing would have been the perfect opportunity to talk, but now it looked like they would have to wait until they were actually burning the bodies.

"Hey, watch your step. Last thing we need is you falling" he heard Lori say and turned around again to look how Herschel was doing.

The old man was making his way across the yard easily.

"You're doing great, Daddy" Beth complimented her father and Herschel smiled at her.

"He's a natural that one!" Connor agreed and Lori placed a hand on the old man's arm with a smile.

Herschel looked at the Irishman then and nodded.

"Thank you for this. I was going crazy in there" he said and nodded at the crutches.

The blonde shrugged with a smirk on his face.

"Well, that's what we do here, aye? Help each other. You helped me when I was sick, 'n now 'm helping ye. Goes without saying, old man."

Herschel frowned.

"I already told you, I'm not that old, boy" he said and chuckled. The Irishman raised an eyebrow.

"I'm in my late thirties, doesn't exactly make me a boy either, don't ye think?"

"Have you been so cheeky when your father was around?"

Connor grinned even more.

"Of course!"

Everyone was approaching the others now.  
Maggie, Carol and T-Dog had parked their cars in front of the fence and were now entering the yard with grins on their faces.  
Carl looked at Beth's father with a smirk on his face.

"Ready to race, Herschel?" he asked and the old man turned his head to look at the boy.

"Give me another day. I'll take you on."

* * *

Daryl held the fence open so Glenn and Rick could step inside. They had been getting firewood from the forest right next to the prison, and now that he had spent some time on his own he wasn't so angry anymore either. He tried his hardest not to think about the previous night, and with all the things they had to do it actually seemed to work. He was checking their environment when he noticed the rest of the group by the cell block.  
  
He saw how Connor and Lori were trying to help limping Herschel. The old man was using the crutches they had found, and although the sight of them still made Daryl furious and angry he couldn't help but smile. _At least they're doing someone some good_ he thought and snorted. "Looky here" he murmured and nodded at the small group opposite them. Glenn stepped through the hole and looked up. He dropped the wood and laughed happily.

"Now he's one tough son of a bitch" Glenn remarked and Daryl snorted once more.

"Yeah, well looks like this stupid leprechaun was right about it after all."

Rick dropped the wood as well and stepped closer with a smile on his face. Daryl and Glenn followed him.

"All right, Herschel!" Glenn suddenly yelled and Daryl hushed him.

"Keep your cheers down" he reminded him and nodded at the walkers that had been following them ever since their trip to the woods.

"Oh, man. Can't we just have one good day?" Glenn murmured and Daryl snorted.

"Day sure's a hell lotta better than yesterday" he growled and grabbed his wrists absently.

He still hadn't told anyone any details on what had happened the night before. He and Connor had agreed that they would keep it to themselves so they wouldn't scare the others. For a second they just watched the others on the other side of the property, and once Herschel was steady enough Connor turned around as well. Daryl stepped closer to the fence and looked at his friend, and after a couple of seconds the Irishman seemed to notice him, too. The hunter believed to see a smile on his friend's face, then Connor pointed at Herschel, presenting him like they were walking down some red carpet.

_See this? This was my idea and it worked. It's doing its job. It's doing us good._

Daryl snorted and shook his head.  
He didn't even need to hear him talk, he could read his friend's body language and facial expressions all too well now.

_Fucker. Still doesn't change a thing._

He tried to be angry with his friend, but somehow he just couldn't right now. Because everyone was so happy, because Herschel had survived a bite and was getting better. Because they were back home. Because they were with people, friends. Because there were fences all around them and the place was starting to look cleaner and better. Maybe everything was going to be better now.  
  
Last night outside had been horrible, but he had survived. Connor had survived. Now they had fences that were protecting them, and maybe they didn't need to be out there in this terrible world anymore. Maybe not too often at least. Daryl sighed and chuckled when Connor kissed his palm and blew the kiss at him. He knew that his friend was just fucking with him again, and he took it as peace offering.

_Come on, stop brooding now. We're good again, aren't we?_

This was the good thing about their friendship. Once they were done brooding everything was all right again.  
The hunter lifted his hand up in the air and flashed his friend his middle finger.

_Fuck you._

He didn't even need to hear it, he knew that Connor was laughing at him again.

For just a second they enjoyed this moment, then they could hear Carl screaming.

"Walkers!" the little boy yelled, a second later they could see about 20 staggering figures to their group's right.

"No!" Rick yelled and all hell broke loose. They could hear how the others started shooting the walkers, and whereas Glenn tried to close up the hole in the fence in a hurry both Daryl and Rick started running towards the gate to help the others. "Get out of there!" Rick yelled and they both watched the others in panic. Daryl could make out that Connor had placed himself in front of Lori, both his guns drawn. He and Carl were shooting all the walkers that were getting close, and once again it was obvious that they didn't ignore the Irishman anymore.

* * *

As soon as Daryl flashed him his finger he knew that they were okay again. Connor chuckled and shook his head with a smirk. "Fucker" he murmured and eyed Herschel when he saw how the old man started wavering again. He was sure that as soon as Daryl was done they could go on like before the old people's home. They had talked about not telling the others any details, and now he decided that it would best for them to forget about all the details as well.   
  
He startled when Carl suddenly yelled "Walkers! Look out!" Everyone turned around in surprise and then they could see them. About 20 walkers, prisoners and civilians, were staggering in their direction, exiting one of the yards they had locked days before. Now the gate was open and nothing stopped the undead from getting in. Connor grabbed his guns and placed himself in front of Herschel and Lori.

"Everyone stay close to people with guns! Lori, Herschel, you stay behind me! Carl, aim fer the head!" he yelled when he saw how the boy drew his gun as well.

The Irishman started shooting the walkers together with Rick's son, a second later Carol, T-Dog and Maggie joined them as well. He could hear how Beth was starting to panic. "Everyone keep calm!" he spat and turned around, only to see that Beth and Herschel had ignored his orders and were now heading for the cell block. He startled when he could hear a gunshot very close to him, and when he looked where the shot had come from he could see Lori standing right beside him, with a gun in her hand.

"Nice shot!" he exclaimed when a walker dropped to the ground, then he wanted to mentally slap himself.

"I said stay behind me! Yer.."

"Don't say pregnant. I know that!" Lori shouted back and shot another walker.

No matter how many of them they shot, they wouldn't stop coming.

"That gate is open!" T-Dog shouted when he and the others finally reached them, and as soon as Connor had shot another walker he looked at him.

"Aye! I know! We gotta close it or else they won't stop coming!" the Irishman answered and was on his way to help T-Dog when he heard how Maggie shouted for Lori. Herschel's daughter was standing by the door to the other cell block and Lori was on her way to her, together with Carl. Connor could see how two walkers were right behind Rick's pregnant wife. His mind was racing. He knew that T-Dog needed help with the gate, but he also knew that it was his job to protect the women and children. He cursed and ran after them, and before the walkers got the chance to attack Lori he shot them in the head and placed a hand on her back.

"We gotta get you and Carl outta here"he said and turned around to shoot another walker.

Carl tried to stay and shoot another couple of walkers, but the Irishman grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him up the stairs so they wouldn't lose Maggie and Lori.

"Let yer Da and the others deal with this! Yer Ma's more important right now!" he shouted and shoved the boy inside.

He closed the gate right behind them and watched the others outside for a second, trying to make out Rick and Daryl. He could see them by the gate and how they were fumbling with the keys. T-Dog and Carol were still outside and trying to shut the gate on the other side. When he looked up he could see Beth and Herschel, who were hiding behind the fences that surrounded the entrance to the cell block on the other side of the yard.  
  
He nodded and the old man nodded back, then Connor made his way inside the other cell block. Walkers were piling up the fences to his left, and when he saw how they were trying to attack him he felt even more uncomfortable again. _Why the fuck were they interested in him all of a sudden? Why couldn't he just go out there anymore and kill them without them attacking him?_

He closed the door shut behind him and it was dead quiet again. Lori, Maggie and Carl were looking around the dark hall of the cell block.  
They had never been inside it before. Connor cursed and put one gun away to grab his knife instead, then he ran down the stairs.

"We gotta find some place t'lock you in until this shit gets sorted out. Maggie, you take the rear. Lori, you stay right behind me. Stay close. Carl, you watch both sides."

They headed for the door that lead them to the cells. They good part was that this cell block looked just like their own, so Connor counted on a number of cells he could use to lock them in. The bad part was that the block was filled with walkers. They were just about to enter the next room when a large number of prison walkers came out and tried to attack them.

"Get back! Get back!" Connor yelled and stabbed a walker who was trying to grab him.

"I thought they didn't attack you!" he could hear Carl yell and shoved the walker away with a grunt.

"I thought the same!" he spat and started running when the whole herd of walkers got closer.

"Run!" he yelled and ran after them as well. The reached the other end of the hall and Maggie turned around in horror to look at him.  
The Irishman turned around to shoot another walker, then he started yelling again.

"Get in there!" he ordered and pointed at the dark corridor in front of Maggie. Herschel's daughter did as she was told and placed a hand on Lori's back to urge her to follow her. Connor tried to kill another couple of walkers on his way to the corridor, but once again it became pretty clear that there were too many of them. It would be impossible for him to kill them, now that they were attacking him again.   
  
When he finally reached the dark hallway he could see that the other three were still waiting for him. He sprinted inside and grabbed the grille door to close it behind him. A couple of seconds later the walkers were piling up on it, blocking their way out. Connor tried to catch breath for a second, then he started walking again.

"We need to move" he murmured and pointed his gun at whatever could be coming at them.

"Maggie, stay behind Lori. Carl, come here and help me cover the hallway, make sure you check every corner."

Lori approached him as they made their way down the dark tunnels.

"Why did they attack you?"'

Connor shrugged and tried to concentrate.

"I don't know. Daryl always said shit wouldn't last. Ever since that fucker hit me with that axe they started attacking me, there was walker blood on it, maybe this changed shit inside me, I don't know. Stay behind me. Be quiet."

He saw how Carl started walking faster and was now in front of them, checking each corner on their way further down the labyrinth of corridors.

"Carl, I said stay close t'me. Yer Da'll kill me if something happens t'ye" Connor growled and grabbed the boy by his collar to pull him back.

They all startled when loud sirens came to life and the emergency lights started blinking.

"What te fuck?!" Connor exclaimed and turned around to eye their surroundings.

"I thought there was no power?" Maggie asked and they all stopped walking for a second. Connor looked at her and nodded.

"Aye. All the generators were dead when I checked them out."

"Then who turned them back on?" Lori asked and they all looked up at the ceiling. The Irishman frowned.

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe those two prisoners. Maybe some other survivors inside this prison we don't know about yet" he concluded and looked at the two women and the boy. "One more reason t'keep an eye out and stay close. Come on now. We gotta get outta here."

A couple of minutes later they could hear how Lori started groaning in pain. Connor turned around in surprise and saw Rick's wife standing right behind him, leaning against the wall and pressing her forehead against it. Maggie approached her and placed a hand on her back.

"Can you keep up?" she asked and Connor came closer.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked and Lori gasped.

"Something's not right."

Carl approached them as well with wide eyes.

"Are you bit?!"

Lori shook her head and groaned again.

"No, no, no" she gasped and shook her head. She turned around and leaned against the wall.

Rick's wife squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then she looked at Maggie, who was placing both her hands on her belly.

"I think the baby's coming" Lori explained and Connor widened his eyes in horror.

"What?!"

"Mom?!" Carl shouted at the same time and the Irishman got even more horrified.

This was way out of his league, and frankly way more terrifying than the ongoing walker invasion.

"Can't ye...like...keep it in? I don't know, squeeze in the other direction or something?!"

Both Maggie and Lori glared at him, then Rick's wife started groaning again. Maggie felt her belly with shaky hands.

"We need to find a place where she can give birth."

Connor widened his eyes even more.

"What?! Now?! No!"

They all turned their heads when they heard loud groans and moans behind them echoing through the corridor they had come from.

"Carl!" Connor shouted and they both drew their guns to cover Lori and Maggie.

"Everybody move! Maggie, you gotta help her!"

"I'm on it!"

They started running down the corridor again, now with Connor right behind them so he could keep an eye on the walkers that were following them. The never ending beeping of the sirens drove him nuts, and Lori's groans and gasps weren't exactly making it any better. Connor was absolutely terrified. Not because of the walkers, but because of the idea of having to be there when Lori was actually giving freaking _birth_. He had seen it on television a couple of times, and he remembered all the horrible stories his mother had told them about his and his brother's birth.   
  
The fact that they had been twins and his mother had given birth to them on the same day had made the whole story even more horrible, especially since their mother had always been _very good_ at telling stories. He had heard about fathers passing out during the whole thing, so how was he supposed to make it through this if he didn't even have anything to do with Lori, Rick and their child?! _Even worse, what if Maggie needed his help?_

The Irishman swallowed hard and tried not to think about it. Maybe this was just some weird woman thing that could happen during a pregnancy, he thought.  
Maybe it was just a phase, maybe it would pass. "In here?" Carl suddenly yelled in front of them and pointed at a heavy steel door to their left. Connor turned around to look at it, then he made his way past Lori and Maggie to check it out himself.  
  
He grabbed the door handle and checked the door, then he opened it. Once he had made sure that there was no walker inside the room he nodded and looked back at the rest of the small group. Maggie was still holding Lori, who was obviously in real pain and could hardly stand anymore. "In here" he demanded and stepped aside so they could enter the room. He shoved Carl inside and threw a final look behind them. He could hear the walkers all around them, but none of them were to be seen yet. Connor cursed and grabbed the door handle to close the door behind them, praying to god that the walkers wouldn't notice them inside.


	21. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and another new chapter! So sorry but I am not sorry. I regret nothing in fact. :D
> 
>  **setting** : episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

When Rick finally managed to open the gate and they ran back inside they had to realize that it was already too late. There were dead bodies lying all around them on the ground, and another small herd of walkers was still staggering around the prison yard. All the other members of their group had disappeared. Rick, Glenn and Daryl shot all the remaining walkers in the yard, and when they approached their cell block they could only see Herschel and Beth.

"What the hell happened? Where's Lori? Carl?" Rick yelled at Herschel and Daryl shot the last walker with his crossbow.

He approached the old man as well.

"And Connor?"

Herschel looked at them.

"He led Maggie, Lori and Carl inside the other cell block!"

"And T was bit!" Beth joined in and Daryl widened his eyes.

"And he was bit?!"

Herschel's daughter shook her head.

"No, _T_ was bit! T-Dog! His shoulder!"

"Anyone else?!" Rick asked.

"I couldn't tell!" Beth answered and Daryl approached Rick.

"We gotta go in there, man. We haven't cleared out this block yet."

Rick nodded and pointed at Beth and Herschel.

"Stay put!" he ordered and placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"Let's go."

Glenn ran after them then.

"Those chains didn't break on their own. Someone took an axe or cutters to them!"

Rick froze and turned around to look at the other two remaining prisoners, who were entering the yard as well, now that they had opened the gates.

"You think they did it?" Glenn gasped and Daryl turned his head to look at them as well.

"Who else?" Rick answered and grabbed his gun.

The hunter was just about to aim his crossbow at them when the alarm went off. Daryl started walking around and searched their surroundings for the origin of the noise.  
"You gotta be kidding me!" he yelled when the alarm wouldn't stop beeping and it was impossible to see where it was coming from.

They could see how countless walkers all around the prison started staggering in their direction, attracted by the noise. Daryl startled when Rick threw the keys at him so he could start shooting all the speakers they could see. "Kill it!" he yelled and Glenn drew his gun as well. Daryl put the keys away and took the gun Connor had given him almost a year ago, and as he shot all the speakers around him he couldn't help but freak out.   
  
Last time he and his friend had been separated when a herd of walkers attacked them Connor had returned with a bite, and he knew how it had ended. What made it even worse was the fact that he now knew that the walkers wouldn't just walk past his friend anymore. He had seen it himself yesterday, when a walker had wrestled the Irishman to the ground and almost ripped his throat out.

"How the hell can this be happening?!" Rick spat and pointed his gun at the two prisoners that were now standing right in the center of their yard.

Daryl and Glenn ran after him and the hunter pointed his crossbow right at their heads. Oscar put his in the air and tried to calm them down.

"Whoa, hey. It has to be the backup generators."

"Well, how do you turn those on?!"

"There's three that are connected to a diesel tank, okay? Each one controls a certain part of the prison. The hatch shut them all off when the prison was overrun!"

"Can someone open up the main gates electronically with full power?!" Rick yelled and Oscar shrugged.

"I don't know! I worked in there a few days! I guess it might be possible!"

Rick grabbed Oscar by his uniform and dragged him with him.

"Come with us!" he demanded and Daryl started running as well.

"What about the others?" he shouted after them but Rick wouldn't stop running.

"Connor's with them and walkers won't attack him, they're save with him for now!  
We've got to switch off the alarm or else walkers start piling up on the fences and overrun them!"

They reached the door that led to the inside of the cell block they hadn't cleared out yet.

"But that's exactly the point! Walkers attack 'im again!" Daryl answered and Rick stopped running to look at him.

"What?"

The hunter nodded.

"Yeah, we don't know why, but a walker attacked him yesterday. They ain't save in there."

Rick turned his head to look at Glenn and Axel.

"Okay, let's split up. You two go and try to help the others. Daryl, Oscar, you come with me!"

* * *

Lori and Maggie were still waiting on top of the stairs whereas Connor and Carl searched the room for any walkers. They found themselves in an old boiler room of all places, and a couple of small windows were their only source of light. Connor turned around to wave the two women down, and when he saw how Lori was holding on to a railing as if her life depended on it he paled even more. He had hoped that maybe her cramps had passed by now, but it looked even more like Rick's wife was really about to give birth. _This is ridiculous_ , he thought and made his way back up the stairs to help her down. Lori let out a gasp again and Connor tried to hush her.

"Look, I know it hurts like crazy, but you gotta be quiet. We don't want those fuckers t'hear us, okay?"

He looked at Maggie who was helping Lori as well.

"Isn't there anyway t'stop this shit? Now's not the time!" he whisper-shouted and Lori interrupted them with a muffled scream.

She went for a bunch of chains as soon as they reached the ground floor and tried to hold on to them. Connor moved his hand through his hair in panic and turned around to look at the door. The beeping was still echoing through the halls and annoying the crap out of him, but at least it was drowning Lori's gasps and groans. "Oh fuck me. Shit shit shit" he murmured and started walking in circles, now that he didn't know what to do. He turned around and looked at Lori and Maggie again, who were making their way further back to the engines.

"What are those alarms?" Lori gasped and kept walking.

Connor looked up and growled.

"Fucking annoying, that's what they are!" he spat and Maggie hushed him.

"Don't worry about it" she said to Rick's wife and tried to calm her down.

"Find towels, blankets, anything that's smooth so we can lie her on the ground" she went on and looked at Connor again, who was still watching Lori in terror.

She hit his shoulder when he wouldn't react.

"Hey, find anything that's smooth enough so we can lie her on the ground" she repeated and Connor nodded nervously.

"Aye, 'f course. It's just...fuck, man. We don't even know how to handle this shit!   
Isn't there really some way to delay it until everything's calmed down and Herschel's there to help her?"

Carl went after them as well and seemed just as excited.

"What if it attracts them?"

Both Lori and Maggie ignored the two and Carl's mother leaned against a table.  
She tried to breathe normally, but it was too obvious that she was in pain now that her body was preparing for birth.

"Lori, let's lay you down" Maggie suggested and tried to move her. Connor approached her as well and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Aye, take my jacket" he suggested and got rid of it so he could give it to Maggie.

"No—the baby's coming now" Lori gasped and Carl got even more nervous.

"We have to get back to our cell block, to have Herschel help!"

"No. We can't risk getting caught out there. You're gonna need to give birth to this baby here" Maggie interrupted him and Carl looked at Connor.

"Do something!"

The Irishman bit his lower lip hard and growled.

"Okay... Okay. Tell me what you need and..."

He stopped talking when Lori's breathing sped up.

"What..what's wrong with her now?!" he asked in horror and looked at Maggie.

Herschel's daughter looked at him.

"Hey! Everybody relax now. She's fine."

She looked at Lori again and grabbed her by her waist.

"Come here, let's get your pants off."

Both Connor and Carl groaned and the Irishman turned around.

"Oh man, Jesus!"

He placed a hand on Carl's shoulder and tried to make him leave as well.

"Come on, let's...let's leave the ladies to it."

"No! I need your help to deliver the baby. You up for it?"

Both Connor and Carl turned around again, and when the blonde saw that Lori wasn't wearing any pants anymore he tried not to look.

"Come on! I'm a fucking guy, I worked in a meat-packing plant and went to prison, you can't seriously expect me t'know anything about that stuff!  
And she's..she's Rick's wife, I can't fucking touch her...there!"

"I'm up for it" Carl spoke up then and approached Maggie.

"Do you know how?" he asked and knelt down next to his mother.

"Dad taught me, but trust me, it's my first time" Herschel's daughter answered and bent down to have a look how Lori was doing.

Connor groaned once more and started walking around when he saw how Maggie started working between Lori's legs.

"Fuck, give me walkers any day.." he murmured and froze when he looked at the door they had come through just a couple of minutes ago.  
He couldn't hear any walkers any more.

"I gotta push!" Lori exclaimed and Connor looked at them.  
  
He saw how Lori got back up and took a couple of deep breaths, then she started pushing.  
Although he was quite horrified he just couldn't look away anymore. Carl was standing right next to him and seemed just as petrified.

"Can..can we do something fer her? I guess I..." the Irishman murmured but Maggie shook her head.

"No, it's alright. Her body knows what to do. Let it do all the work, Lori."

Connor bit his lip awkwardly and put a hand on Carl's shoulder.

"Come on, we better keep an eye on the door" he said and tried to get the boy away, but Carl stayed right where he was.

Connor felt incredibly awkward, especially now that he really didn't have anything to do with it. He wasn't part of the family, he didn't know how to assist Maggie, he didn't want to see it or hear it. _Why the fuck had he chosen to go with them?_ He started pacing up and down the room and wouldn't stop looking at both the door and Lori. Rick's wife was pushing every couple of seconds, and her son just watched in horror. After a couple of minutes Maggie suddenly knelt down to have a look how the baby was doing.

"Lori, don't push" she suddenly demanded and Connor stopped walking.

"Stop! Something's wrong!" Maggie exclaimed and the Irishman darted forward, but it was already too late.

Lori started screaming in pain and when Maggie got back up there was blood on her hands.

"What's wrong with her?" the Irishman asked in shock and looked at the blood on her hands.

Lori wouldn't stop screaming and yelping in pain. A second later she passed out and both Maggie and Carl tried to lie her on the ground as carefully as possible.

"What's going on?!" Connor shouted and knelt down to help as well.

"I think she's losing it" Maggie explained and tried to wake Lori up. The Irishman hit her cheeks gently and tried to do the same.

"There's gotta be something we can do!"

"I don't know anything about it! Dad would know what to do, but I don't, okay?!" Maggie shouted and looked at Connor for a second, then looked at Lori again.

The Irishman growled and got up.

"All right, then! Fuck it! 'm gonna go and get him then! And Rick and the others. No one fucking dies here! Stay put.  
Carl you watch the door and lock it behind me" he said and headed for the door. Both Maggie and Carl looked at him with wide eyes.

"Don't! There's too many walkers out there! It's suicide!"

"I can handle it! Somebody's gotta do something. We can't lose that child. And Lori. Rick's gotta be with her, and Herschel's gotta take care of this. We can do it!  
Just sit tight. I'll be back before ye know it!" he shouted over his shoulder and grabbed the door handle.

Carl came after him.

"Don't leave us!" he begged and Connor looked at him. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and grabbed his knife with the other hand.

"'s gonna be okay. Be right back. Now. I need ye to focus, aye? Yer the man in charge now. Look after yer Ma as long as I'm gone. Keep an eye on the door and keep your voices down. And remember. Think fast and aim fer the head and don't be scared" he reminded Rick's son and squeezed his shoulder. He let go and threw one final look at Lori and Maggie, then he opened the door with a determined pull and stepped outside.

* * *

The good thing about the whole running around corridors was that he didn't have to watch and hear how a woman was trying to give birth. He was still so horrified because of all the things he had seen and heard that he didn't even mind all the dead rotten bodies on the ground anymore. The bad thing about the whole running around dark corridors was the fact that the alarm was still ringing and echoing through the halls, which was both annoying and incredibly distracting. He couldn't hear a single thing because of it, and that made it even harder for him to identify any walkers. Connor half ran half tip toed his way through the labyrinth of pitch black corridors, and he cursed himself for not having any sort of flashlight with him.

He remembered how Herschel had been bit by some walker that had just been sitting on the ground, and there were so many bodies that it was impossible for him to make out the enemy. What made it even worse was the fact that he knew that he didn't have any benefit anymore, so walkers would most certainly attack him on sight. Or smell. Or however they identified their victims.   
  
Pretty soon he got lost because of all his excitement and terror. The Irishman knew that he had to hurry. Lives were depending on it after all. _But where the fuck was he?_ He cursed when he heard the tired dragging of feet and hid in a cell. He was completely out of breath by now, and his old injury from the car crash was starting to hurt again. Connor tried to be as quiet as possible as another five walkers passed the cell he was hiding in, and as soon as he was sure that they were gone he started running again. He was on his way around the corner when something hard hit his head.

"Ow! Fuck! It's just me! We gotta.."

He trailed off when he realized that the man who was standing right in front of him wasn't a member of their group at all.  
Andrew, the prisoner he had believed to be dead, was staring at him and seemed just as surprised.

"It's you!" Connor exclaimed and tried to take his gun, but the prisoner was faster. Andrew started yelling and ran right into the Irishman. He shoved him back against the wall and started choking him with the haft of his axe. For a second the blonde was petrified because of the sudden lack of air and pressure to his throat, but then his instincts kicked back in. He was way stronger than Andrew, who was smaller and slimmer. Connor tried to fight the axe and eventually managed to move it away from his aching throat. Andrew tried to attack him again, but the Irishman fought him off with a determined and hard clout to his head.

The prisoner staggered backwards with a loud groan and Connor used the opportunity to run for his gun, which he had dropped when Andrew had attacked him. He had almost reached his weapon when another brutal blow to his head knocked him off his feet. The Irishman fell to the ground, face down and the back of his head burning with pain. He managed to turn on his back and took his gun, but somehow his senses and limbs where no longer following his orders. Andrew swam into view again and he could see how the prisoner was looking down on him, with his axe high in the air.

"This prison is ours!" Andrew spat and struck out to hit the blonde to his feet, but Connor managed to turn away just split seconds before the axe hit the ground right next to his head. Although everything was spinning and his head hurt like hell he still managed to keep fighting. He kicked Andrew's legs hard so the prisoner fell down as well, but when he tried to take hold of his gun again the other man was back on him and started punching him with a couple of brutal blows to his head. No matter how hard he tried to fight back, pretty soon he just couldn't move his arms and legs anymore, simply because his head hurt so much and he felt so dizzy that everything he tried was just useless.

Andrew had eventually grabbed his axe again and was just about to hit his head when he froze and looked up. For a second Connor didn't know what was going on, but part of him prayed to god that the others were coming. When Andrew turned his head to look in the general direction of the corner he had come from the Irishman tried to fight the man on top of him once more, but the dizziness was taking over again. The prisoner suddenly got up and the blow to his head that Connor had feared wouldn't happen. The Irishman tried his best to get up as well, now that Andrew was heading for the corner in front of them, but apart from crawling and groaning he wasn't really able to do anything.

The headache was killing him and he could hardly see anything. Everything was blurry and distorted, but after blinking a couple of times he could make out his gun on the ground. It didn't take long and Andrew was on him again, but instead of hitting him and attacking him with the axe the other man just grabbed Connor by his leg and started dragging him away from the gun, all the way across the ground and towards the corner.

"This prison is ours! And now we're taking it back! I was thinking about killing you all, starting with you, but now I got a better idea for you, mick!" he yelled and Connor tried to kick and fight him, but it was useless. "Fuck off! I'll fuckin kill ye you piece of shit!" he countered and was surprised when he heard the sound of his voice. He sounded like he was drunk, hell, he even felt like he was drunk.  
  
He kicked even harder and tried to hold on to something, anything on the ground, but Andrew kept dragging him away from his gun and around the corner. Then he finally heard it too. The tired dragging of feet that sped up, the excited and terrifying groans of a dozen walkers. Connor turned his head in horror to see where he was being dragged, and when his gaze met the herd of walkers that were coming closer on the other side of the corridor he started kicking and yelling again.

"Let go of me you fucking bastard! I'll fuckin kill ye!"

Andrew suddenly stopped walking and kicked the Irishman's head hard and Connor nearly passed out because of the blow.  
The prisoner let go of his leg and knelt down next to him.

"You' re the one that killed Tomas! And remember how you assholes tried t'kill me after that? Threw me at walkers, didn't let me in although I was begging for my life? Well look at you now."

Connor glared at the man above him and tried to grab him and punch him, but all the kicks, punches and blows to his head had made him practically unable to move.

"I'll fucking kill you. If it's the last thing I do in me fuckin life, I'll fucking kill you" he gasped and grabbed the small pocket knife he always carried around in addition to Murphy's knife and his guns. Without a warning he stabbed Andrew in his calf and the prisoner screamed in pain and started kicking him again. His wailing and screaming seemed to make it worse. They could hear how the walkers were somewhat running towards them by now. Andrew grabbed his bleeding leg and kicked Connor's stomach hard.

"You piece of shit!" he yelped, then a loud groan made him look up again.

He widened his eyes in horror and Connor didn't even need to see it. He knew that the walkers were very close now. He managed to make Andrew fall down when the latter tried to run away, but no matter how hard the Irishman held on to the prisoner's leg, somehow he still managed to free himself. The blonde MacManus craned his neck and watched how his attacker ran away, around the corner and far far away from the walkers, and for a second he let out a relieved sigh because all the kicks and punches had stopped.

He couldn't enjoy that the fight was over though, because then he remembered all the undead that were approaching him, and when he tried to get back up the world started spinning again. It felt like his head was split wide open, like someone had thrown him into a washing machine. Connor kept trying and fighting in panic and eventually managed to turn back on his belly, then he started dragging himself back to where he had come from, back to were his gun was. The dragging of feet and the groaning of walkers was getting closer and closer, and after dragging himself back to the corner he just couldn't do it anymore. He was completely exhausted, and soon he couldn't fight the darkness anymore that kept calling him, trying to swallow his consciousness, his everything.


	22. Hide And Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 4 " _Killer Within_ "

"It's about time!"

Connor startled awake. The first thing he noticed was that the annoying beeping had eventually stopped.

"What now, yer gonna lie there ferever?"

"What the..?"

He blinked a few times, but no matter how many times he did it, the view wouldn't change. He was staring up at an incredibly beautiful blue sky. Only a couple of small clouds were slowly drifting away, and when he turned his head he could see that he was surrounded by long blades of grass. He huffed when something heavy landed on his chest and his instincts kicked right in. Panic washed over him.   
  
_The walkers! The prison! The..._

"Kept me waiting fer way t'long, dickhead!"

Connor blinked once more when a face swam into view, only a couple of inches away from his.

"What?"

The little boy hit his chest and giggled.

"Earth t'Connor. Earth t'Connor. Please respond."

The Irishman widened his eyes in pure shock.

"Murph?"

The little boy grinned, revealing a missing baby tooth. He hit the back of his head.

"What dream cloud are ye on? I thought we was gonna play hide and seek. I've been waiting forever! You promised you'd come and play with me!"

Connor groaned and rubbed the back of his head. He had the worst headache in his life, and Murphy's slaps weren't exactly making it any better.

"But..."

"Come on!" his little brother yelled and grabbed him by his hands to pull him up.

It was then when the older MacManus saw the difference, his brother's hands were ever so little and fragile, whereas his were the mere representation of his age, big, hard and rough, the tattoo on his finger clearly visible on his pale skin. His twin eventually pulled him back on his feet, although Connor was groaning and protesting because of the pain in his head. Murphy seemed to be life itself, all young and running around and giggling and talking.

"Come on! Come on! Come on! You gotta close yer eyes and count t'thirty! You promised you'd come and play with me!"

The dark-haired MacManus hit his brother every once in a while as he ran around him.  
Connor scratched the back of his head with a confused frown and let his gaze wander.   
They were in the middle of the meadow close to their home. He could see their village, their house just down the hill.

"You promised you'd come! Kept me waiting and waiting... come on now!"

Murphy giggled and hit him again and again. Connor looked at the little boy in front of him, who was only half as tall as him.  
He could see the scratches all over his twin's face, the bruises on his arms he had because of all their running around and playing cops and robbers.

"Murph..I.." the older MacManus murmured and was even more confused.

 _Where the fuck was he? What the fuck was going on? Where were all the..?_ He frowned.   
  
_All the what? He didn't even know what he was supposed think anymore._

Murphy grabbed his arms again and started shaking him.

"Please don't keep me waiting anymore! You promised. Please, Connor, please!"

The older twin finally smiled and stroke his little brother's head.

"Okay, Murph, okay. What do y'want me t'do then?"

Murphy grinned, his blue eyes gleaming with joy.

"Close yer eyes and count t'thirty."

Connor sighed and did as he was told.

"Okay...one.."

He could hear how his younger half giggled and ran away.

"Two...three...four..." he counted and took a deep breath.  
  
The air was so clean, smelled and tasted so good that it made him forget everything. _Why had he been so scared, so terrified? He was with his brother. Of course he was._ _He remembered it now. He had promised him to come and play with him._ Murphy had been the first to finish homework and had run off on his own. To prepare something, something secret. He remembered it. He had promised that he wouldn't let Murphy wait for too long and that he would join him as soon as possible.

"Five...six...seven...eigh.."

He startled when the image of a terrible face with wide gray eyes flashed before his own.  
A second later he could hear loud squeals and groans.  
Connor gasped and placed a hand on his forehead when the pain got worse.

"Ei...eight...nine...ten..."

He gasped when he saw another terrible creature, if only just for a split second, and when he resumed counting each number was underlined by an incredibly annoying beeping.

"T..ten...eleven..."

_Beeeeep. Beeeeep._

The blonde MacManus groaned and fell to his knees.

"Twelve..."

"No! Connor!"

His eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of his brother's voice, how terrified Murphy sounded.

"Murph!"

He gasped in horror when he saw how their surroundings had changed. The sky was dark and flickering in dark shades of red every couple of seconds, the crops and grass all around them was no longer green but rotten, and the smell, oh the smell...

"Connor!"

He could see Murphy standing there, about 200 feet away from him.  
Strange people were staggering in his direction, like the old men they knew from their uncle's pub, people who had been drinking too much.

"Murphy! Come back here! Get away from them!" he spat and got back to his feet.

He didn't even know why he was so terrified all of a sudden.  
T _hey were just drunk people, right? Drunk people were all around them all the time, hell, even their mother was drunk all the time..._  
Little Murphy watched how they came closer, then he turned his head and looked at his brother again.

"Connor! Come on! You promised! You promised you'd come so we could play t'gether! You gotta come t'me!"

The older MacManus started running, but he knew that he wouldn't get there in time. The staggering people were heading for his younger half, reaching out and making the most terrible noises. What made it even worse was the fact that the soil underneath his feet was so muddy, and he stumbled and almost fell multiple times.

"Murph! Ye gotta come back here! Run!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but his younger half still wasn't moving, and the others were getting _closer and closer and closer.._

"Connor!" he could hear how terrified his twin was.

"Connor, you gotta come here!" he screamed and looked at the staggering figures again, but when the older MacManus was just about to reach out for his younger half he suddenly slipped on the mud and fell on his back. All the air was pressed out of his lungs and he was staring at the dark, no, _black_ sky, flares of red flashing every couple of seconds.

"Murph! Come back t'me! You gotta come t'me, I can't fuckin move!" he yelled when he realized that his legs were no longer following his orders.

The pain in his head got worse and worse, and he could hear the footsteps of the other staggering people coming closer and closer.

"Murph!" he called out once more and huffed when something fell on top of him again. He raised his head and let out a relieved sigh.

"There you are, ye came back" he gasped and stroke his twin's black hair.

He kissed his forehead shakily and clung to his brother as if his life depended on it, which it actually did.

"Yer with me now. You came back t'me.." Connor repeated and pulled a face when his younger half suddenly moved very close, their noses almost touching and.. The older MacManus yelped in surprise when he saw that the blue in his brother's eyes was gone, he was staring at cloudy gray eyes and...

**Beeeeep. Beeeep.**

Connor groaned and blinked a few times. _Why was Murphy so.._

Cloudy gray eyes were staring at him wearily and dead. The Irishman could hardly breathe because of the weight on top of him.

"Murph..?" he croaked and the eyes, no the _face_ moved even closer, sniffing and shifting. _And the smell..._

The Irishman was wide awake in a matter of seconds and couldn't hold back the cry of sheer terror that escaped his mouth. Now he remembered where the beeping was coming from, why everything was so dark and red, _where_ he was, and _what_ was lying on top of him. The undead seemed confused because of his sudden movement and cry, and for a second it looked like it was getting into attack mode.   
  
The undead snarled and bared his teeth and moved even closer so that his and Connor's nose were actually touching. The Irishman groaned and turned his head away in disgust. He could feel how the undead prisoner was clutching to his shirt and started sniffing again, on his cheek, his forehead, right where the damp spot was. Connor realized that he was bleeding because of the fight with Andrew, and his blood seemed to confuse the walker on top of him. The blonde tried not to panic, although it was quite hard to achieve. The undead was heavy, and he could hardly move because of the weight and the pain in his head. He could see how other walkers were staggering around them, but none of them would look at them.

"Get off me" Connor gasped and tried to shove the undead prisoner away, but the creature just snarled and still seemed unsure what to do, whether it should attack him and bite him or not. "I said get off me" the Irishman repeated but trailed off because the world started spinning again. He could still hear his twin calling and shouting his name in complete and utter terror.

"Connor!"

"Get off.." but the headache made it impossible to move and fight.

* * *

The beeping annoyed the crap out of him. Hell, everything annoyed the crap out of him. _Why the fuck had this happened?_ He gave Oscar a death glare. He just knew that it had to be those prison scumbags, but Rick wouldn't let him shoot him just yet. Because they needed the guy for the generators, as living map through all the dark corridors. He cursed himself for everything he had criticized on Connor when he had killed Tomas. His friend had been right. They were prisoners. They couldn't be trusted. They should have shot them on sight and they wouldn't be having this goddamn problem now.

Daryl had a flashlight on his crossbow, and Rick was also carrying one but it was still pretty much useless. It was so dark that they could hardly see a thing, and the alarm was driving them even more nuts. Countless thoughts were going through his mind. _Where were the others? Where was Connor? Were they okay? What if he was bit again? How was he supposed to handle this shit all over again? Better not be bit or I bash your skull in, you dumbass leprechaun,_ he thought and punched a wall when he was sure that neither Oscar nor Rick were looking. He cursed himself for all the bullshit he had said to Connor just this morning. The guy had saved his ass and he had thanked him with a shitload of punches, insults and accusations. _What if this had been their last words? What if the guy was dead now?_

Daryl shook his head and tried not to think about it. Because this was ridiculous. Connor was immune and strong, and even if he had been bit, he still wasn't supposed to care so much, to worry _so_ much. After almost a year and a near death experience he was still fighting his obvious affection, but he knew that it was pointless because in the end he _would_ care and he _would_ be devastated.

_Better not be dead, asshole._

The three men stopped walking when they heard the gasps and tearing sounds of walkers who were obviously feasting.  
Rick, Daryl and Oscar moved closer to the walls and Daryl leaned his head back for a second.

_Please. I ain't the praying type, but please don't let it be him._

Rick nodded and both Oscar and Daryl darted forward, only to stop right in their tracks. They could see two walkers by the end of the corridor, who were kneeling next to a bloody corpse and ate its organs out of its belly. When they noticed their flashlights the undead got up with a growl and staggered in their direction. Before they could even get close Rick started walking again and shot them right in the head.

 _Don't let it be him,_ Daryl prayed once more and started walking as well. When they got closer to the corpse they could see that it was T-Dog. No one said anything for a while and they just stared at their friend's mutilated corpse. Of course they felt sad. T-Dog had been with them since..hell, ever since they had formed their group back in Atlanta. But there was a certain part of Daryl, and he wanted to hate himself for thinking like that, that was glad that it was T-Dog and not somebody else.   
  
Somebody with whom he had been _close_. The hunter shook his head sadly and started searching the hallway for any more clues. The door to his right was open, and there was a lot of blood on the ground. What really hit him was the sight of a scarf though, which was lying right next to the pool of blood and guts. The hunter leaned down to grab it. He knew the smell, he knew the look, he knew who it had belonged to. _Carol_.

He swallowed hard when he saw the blood on it. For a second he just looked at the scarf in his hand, and he was well aware of the looks he was given, but he didn't care. Ever since the Sophia incident he had felt a special connection with her, to an extent where he called her a good friend. She and Connor had always been his favorites, the people who had really mattered to him. _And now this_.

He was holding her scarf in his hands, there was blood on the ground, they were surrounded by dark corridors and walkers, T-Dog was dead, the others were nowhere to be seen and Connor was... He growled and put the scarf away. "Let's go and switch those goddamn alarms off" he murmured and started walking, because he feared that he would explode otherwise. There was so much sadness, frustration, hatred and sheer anger inside him that he knew that his next fit of anger wasn't too far away. Neither Oscar nor Rick were safe, and he just needed to get out of this place.

* * *

They made their way through the endless maze of corridors again.

"Ain't too far now. Just two more corners" Oscar explained and both Rick and Daryl went after him.

"You know how to turn those off?" Rick whispered and the prisoner shrugged.

"I don't know, man. Just been in there a couple of times, but there's instructions all over the place and..."

Daryl hushed them loudly when he heard another bunch of walkers.   
Both Rick and Oscar nodded and grabbed their weapons tight, then they made their way to the corner in front of them.  
When they got closer they heard how many more walkers there really were.

"Shit, that's the only way" Oscar whispered and Daryl hushed him again. He looked at Rick and adjusted his crossbow.

"'m gonna have a look" he murmured and took a deep breath.

He could hear them, the dragging of feet, the tired groaning and moaning. The hunter counted down to three and peeked around the corner, only to let out a surprised gasp. He could see a group of about eight walkers by the other corner, and two of them were kneeling next to another body. What really shocked him though, was the fact that he recognized the tattoo on their victim's arm. A shocked "No!" escaped his mouth even before he realized what he had done. Every single walker turned his head and looked at him, but even that wouldn't snap Daryl out of his shock.

"No! Connor!" he yelled and wanted to run for his friend, but then a strong hand grabbed him by his arm.

"We gotta move! Get back!" Rick yelled but Daryl fought his grip in sheer terror.

"No!" he yelled again, the anger and heartbreak eating him up.

"Connor!" he yelled again and Rick started shooting the walkers, but there were too many of them.

"Daryl! We gotta go!" the policeman yelled again and managed to drag him away.

"No! Get up you stupid leprechaun!" the hunter yelled again but couldn't see anything anymore. Not the arm, not the walkers, everything disappeared behind the corner. Rick and Oscar started running, but Daryl managed to free himself. His mind wasn't even working anymore. He saw the image over and over again, his friend lying there on the ground, a walker on top of him, and when he saw a door to his right he reacted instantly.   
  
He remembered how Connor had done this sort of thing the first time they had tried to clear out the corridors, so he did just the same now. He hid inside the room and watched how the walkers ran after Oscar and Rick instead. The hunter knew that it was incredibly stupid and selfish to do this, to abandon their leader and the other man like that and use them as bait, but somehow his brain had just stopped working. All he needed to do was stop them from eating his best friend, and he knew he just needed to _see_ him.

The walkers had just passed the room he was hiding in when he stepped outside and started running again. He prepared himself for the worst as he approached the corner, and countless words and things were going through his head. _I told you to watch your ass. You're immune you stupid ass. You've got no idea how much you matter to me, you've got no idea how much it hurt the last time you..._ He stopped in his tracks when he saw the Irishman, how he was lying there on the ground right in the middle of the corridor. There were no guts, no chaos, no...nothing.

"Connor?!" he shouted and ran for his friend, and when he landed on his knees right next to him he could see why he was lying there like that. Connor's eyes were closed, but when he put a hand on his chest he could feel that his heart was still beating and that he was still breathing. There was blood on his face which seemed to come from a wound on his forehead.   
  
It looked like the Irishman had been in a fight and had received several punches. Daryl grabbed his head and started hitting his cheek. His heart was pumping because he was so glad that the walkers hadn't managed to eat his friend yet, but at the same time he was worried sick because he didn't have a clue what was wrong with the Irishman, why he was unconscious.

"Hey! Hey, come on, man. Open yer eyes. We're here now. I got yah. Just open yer eyes."

He hit his cheek again and Connor shifted a bit, groaning and blinking a few times.

"Get off.." he mumbled and Daryl chuckled nervously.

"Hey! No no, don't close yer eyes. Wake up, leprechaun."

Connor groaned again and smirked weakly.

"There ye are..you came back.." he mumbled and chuckled tiredly. "Murph..knew you'd come back t'me.."

Daryl growled and hit his cheek hard.

"I said open yer eyes and wake up!" he spat and startled when he heard several shots and footsteps that were coming closer.

Connor was obviously still fighting to stay awake, but Daryl knew that they didn't have enough time.  
He grabbed the Irishman by his arm to lift him up.  
For a second he didn't know where to go, but then he saw the door at the very end of the corridor.

"Let's get in there! We found it!" he yelled and dragged his friend to the generator room.

The beeping was incredibly loud now, but he didn't care.   
He knew that he needed to get the Irishman someplace save, that someone needed to stop the alarm.


	23. Newborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 4 " _Killer Within_ " and episode 5 " _Say The Word_ "

Daryl helped his friend inside the generator room and closed the door behind them. For a second he didn't really know where to go or what to do. He could hear the rattling and buzzing of the diesel generators. The beeping was so loud inside the small room that it was giving him a headache. He helped Connor to one of the engines and sat him on the ground. He knelt down and patted his friend's cheek. The Irishman blinked a few times and groaned, and it looked like he didn't have a clue where he actually was.

"Hey. Hey! You with me?" the hunter asked and made his friend look at him.

Connor blinked a few times and nodded, but he still felt incredibly dizzy.

"Aye...we...we gotta get Herschel" he murmured and Daryl chuckled.

"Don't be such a drama queen. 's just a scratch. Yer gonna be fine, yah whiny asshole."

The hunter patted his shoulder and tried to get up.

"We gotta turn those things off. They're goddamn annoying."

Connor grabbed him by his arm and looked at him.

"No. Ye gotta understand, We gotta find Herschel. Lori.."

He widened his eyes in shock when he saw that Andrew was right behind Daryl.

"Watch out!" he yelled and pulled the hunter away just when the prisoner was about to hit him with his axe.

The weapon got stuck in the wall behind them and Connor and Daryl tried to get back on their feet.

"I thought he was dead!" the hunter yelled and looked at his friend, but then Andrew attacked him again and wrestled him to the ground.

"Let him go!" Connor yelled and threw himself on top of the prisoner to get him off Daryl.

Andrew had no trouble fighting him off because the Irishman was still weak and dizzy from their previous fight. He got up with a determined cry and ran for the axe again, then he ran around the generators and disappeared. Both Daryl and Connor grabbed their guns, and whereas the Irishman was unable to get back on his feet the hunter got back up and tried to run after the prisoner. Just then Rick and Oscar decided to burst through the door.

"Daryl! Get the door! Get the door!" the policeman yelled as they were being chased by the walkers from the corridors.

The hunter saw how the undead came closer and Rick ran right for the generators.

"Rick! You gotta..!"

"Get the door!" the policeman interrupted him and started flipping switches on the machine.

"How do you shut these down?!"

Daryl, who was now pressing his entire weight against the shaking door, glared at Oscar.  
The prisoner was trying to help him with the door, but the hunter wouldn't have want any of that.

"Go help him! I got it! And watch out, there's.."

He didn't even need to finish the sentence when the yelling and fighting started all over again. Daryl could see how Rick was being attacked by Andrew, who had been right next to the generators with his axe. Oscar started running so it was up to the hunter to keep the door closed. He could hear that there were so many walkers piling up on the others side that he just knew that he wouldn't last very long. The other men were fighting just a couple of meters away from him, then a shot startled them all. Daryl had to watch how Rick lost grip of his weapon and fell to the ground, but there was nothing he could do.

"Connor!" he yelled and turned his head to see where his friend was.

The hunter startled once more when the Irishman ran against the door right next to him and started pressing it shut as well.

"Fucker attacked me just like that. He wants t'kill us all" he grunted and Daryl snorted angrily.

"Yeah I can see that!" he yelled back and his friend looked at him.

"Ye gotta let me out, close the door behind me 'n help Rick!"

The hunter turned his head and looked at the blonde to his left with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Open this fucking door and let me handle it!" Connor yelled and glared at Daryl, but his friend shook his head.

"'s too many of 'em! What if they get yah and run in here?!"

The Irishman let go of the door and walked around him so he could place a hand on the door knob.

"We're gonna open this fucking door on three, 'm gonna run outside 'n kill those fuckers and yer gonna take out every stinking bastard that tries t'get in!"

Daryl got angry and kicked his friend's leg.

"No we won't! We're gonna.."

"One!"

"No! Yah idiot can hardly walk yer gonna.."

"Two!"

Connor looked at him and nodded, which made Daryl even more furious.

"I said.."

"Three!" the Irishman yelled and pulled the door open. The hunter cursed and ran for his crossbow, which was lying on the ground behind him. Because the corridor was small not more than two walkers could stumble inside at once and it was easy for Connor to get past them. He started yelling and shoving them, and with a couple of systematic and quick stabs to their brains he took out one walker after another. Once again the undead seemed to be confused because of his sheer existence, but they wouldn't attack him.

There were a few grabs and snarls here and there, but other than that it was incredibly easy for the Irishman to kill them. Two walkers managed to get past him, but Daryl was right by the door to stab and shoot them when they got too close. Connor was stabbing the last walker when he turned his head and looked at his friend.   
  
"Go and help Rick! I got this!" he yelled and shoved the walker he had just killed away. Daryl nodded and grabbed his knife, then he made his way back inside the generator room. When he reached the others he could see that Oscar was standing there with Rick's gun in his hand, pointed right at their leader and Andrew.

"Shoot him! We can take back this prison!" his fellow inmate demanded.

Daryl approached him slowly and carefully, his knife up in the air and ready to attack if he needed to.  
Rick was reaching out and trying to stop Oscar, but the prisoner just looked at him.

"What are you waiting for? Do it! It's our house! Shoot him!" the other prisoner yelled.

Oscar took aim and pulled the trigger, knocking Andrew off his feet. Rick startled and turned his head away in surprise, but it was obvious that he wasn't the one who had been shot. Daryl approached the remaining prisoner with the gun nevertheless, but the other man twirled the gun around in his hand and offered it Rick.   
  
The hunter looked at his leader in surprise and Rick seemed just as dumbfounded. The policeman nodded and took the gun back, then he gave Daryl a sign that he could lower his knife as well. Lori's husband headed for another panel of controls and pulled some levelers, which finally stopped the alarms. It was silent again, and the hunter let out a relieved sigh.

"Finally" he growled and eyed Oscar once more, but the prisoner didn't seem to want to attack them.

"Let's go" Rick said and headed for the door. He looked at Daryl on his way out.

"Where's Connor?"

The hunter nodded at the door.

"Outside. He's.."

When Rick opened the door they could see that the Irishman was sitting on the ground, his face buried in his arms which he was resting on his knees.  
Dead bodies of about eight walkers were lying all around him, and it looked like he was still out of breath from the fight.  
Daryl walked past Rick and approached his friend to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, yah alright? Did they attack yah? Did you get bit?"

Connor mumbled something and looked up. It was obvious that he was still a bit dizzy and confused.  
The blonde leaned his head back against the wall and shook his head, which he regretted with a groan.

"Nah. Just a fuckin headache. Fucker practically squashed me head in, man. 's all."

He looked up when Rick came closer and knelt down in front of him.

"Where's Lori? Did you see her? Herschel told us that she was with you."

Connor placed a hand on his head and swallowed hard. He still could hardly see a thing, everything was blurry and distorted and just..hurt.

"Aye, Lori is..."

He widened his eyes and looked at Rick in shock.

"Lori's gone int' labor! We gotta get Herschel!" he yelled and tried to get up.

"Woah, easy" Daryl grunted and tried to help his friend, but Connor fought him off.

"Fuck off! We gotta go!" he yelled and grabbed Rick.

"There's been some complications, Maggie 'n Carl are with her, but Maggie said we need Herschel!   
's why I was running around here when this fucker attacked me! Which block's this?"

The three other men were quite taken aback because of his sudden outburst, but then Rick seemed to finally understand what was going on.  
He widened his eyes in horror and turned around to look at Oscar.

"Which block's this? I got lost on my way here!" Connor yelled and Oscar needed a second to gather his thoughts.

"..B...yeah, yeah that's B."

The Irishman started running.

"We gotta get to the other one!"

* * *

The sunlight made it even worse. It was blinding him and he needed to squeeze his eyes shut because of the pain in his head. He was pretty sure that he had a concussion. No wonder. He remembered the hard blow to his head which he had received when Andrew had hit him with the haft of his axe. Connor could still hardly see a thing, but he eventually managed to stagger outside. Daryl was right beside him, but he insisted on walking on his own. They had found Glenn and Axel on their way back, but the others were still missing. When they finally stepped outside Rick started running towards Herschel and Beth, who were still waiting by the stairs to their own cell block.

"Herschel!" the policeman yelled and the old man looked at them.

"You didn't find them?"

Rick shook his head and turned around to look at Daryl and Connor, who needed more time to get to them.

"No, but Connor knows where they are. We need your help."

"What about T? Carol?"

Daryl had stopped walking by now and looked down.

"They didn't make it."

Connor turned his head and looked at him.

"What?"

The hunter nodded and looked at Herschel again.

"Yeah" he answered and the topic was done for him.

Rick ran back to Connor and placed a hand on his shoulder to animate him to get closer to Herschel.

"Tell him what happened" the policeman said. Herschel and Beth opened the door for him so he could come down.

The Irishman scratched the back of his aching head and squeezed his eyes shut, now that he was trying to concentrate.

"I..We were running from walkers and then Lori suddenly started moaning about. We made it t'some boiler room and the whole pain thing wouldn't stop, so Maggie told her t'push and she did, but then she started screaming and there was blood coming outta her and she collapsed. Maggie said that she could lose the baby, so I ran as fast as I could."

He looked at Herschel and swallowed hard.

"They really need yer help. Fast."

"We're going back!" Rick spat and looked at them.

"Daryl and Glenn, you come with-" he trailed off when a loud squeal of a baby interrupted him.

The whole group turned around in surprise to see where the noise was coming from.

"They made it! Thank..." Connor murmured with a smile on his face, but stopped talking when he saw that it were just Maggie and Carl. Herschel's daughter was carrying a little baby in her arms. His jacket, which he had given to them before he had left was wrapped around the small babbling bundle in her arms. The look on Carl's face and the fact that Maggie was crying told him everything he needed to know. Maggie was trying to talk, but all the tears wouldn't let her. Every one was speechless. Rick dropped his axe and approached them.

"Where—where is she? Where is she?" he stammered.

Maggie was still trying to talk, but she still couldn't answer him. Their leader tried to walk past her and she finally had the strength to form words. "No..Rick, no!" she sobbed and tried to stop him. Rick stopped walking and came to a halt right next to his son. He finally couldn't hold back the tears either. He was a crying mess in a matter of seconds, but no one was able to say or do anything. Glenn was the only one who approached his girlfriend and tried to calm her down, but even when Rick collapsed to the ground and wouldn't stop crying no one would move.   
  
Daryl eventually couldn't look at it anymore. He had never seen Rick cry like that, and although he had never really liked Lori, in the end her death still made him sad. At first he decided to look at the ground, but then he turned his head and looked at Connor instead. The Irishman's eyes were widened because of the shock, and there was still blood all over his face because of the wound on his forehead. What made it even worse was the fact that his friend wasn't moving at all. He didn't react to anything. He just stared at Rick, who was rolling around on the ground and wouldn't stop weeping.

Connor couldn't stop looking at their leader. He was only vaguely aware of the crying baby and Rick's sobs, because he felt so terrified, so shocked, so...numb. Rick's wife was dead, their leader was a complete mess and he couldn't help but blame himself. Because he had been the one who had gone with them. Because he had been the one man who had been supposed to watch over them, protect them. And then he had run off on his own. Just because he had been terrified and disgusted by the idea of having to watch how a woman gave birth. Here he was now. Alive. Saved. Relatively fine, whereas Lori was dead and Rick...

"Rick?" he heard Daryl ask but still couldn't stop staring. Their leader had stopped crying. Now he was just sitting there, staring into nothingness. The little baby wouldn't stop crying in Maggie's arms. Daryl was the one to approach their leader then. Even after calling his name multiple times and waving his arms around in front of Rick's eyes the policeman still wouldn't react. He was looking at Daryl as if he didn't even know him. He was in shock by the looks of it.

"Rick?"

Connor startled when someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened to you? Are you alright?" Herschel asked and the Irishman blinked a few times, completely dumbfounded and confused.

"What? Yeah..yeah.." he mumbled and moved out of the old man's reach so he could look at Rick again.

Herschel seemed just as confused and worried, but then he saw how Carl took the crying bundle from Maggie.

"Let me see the baby" he demanded and Carl came closer.

"We're gonna have to feed it. We got anything a baby can eat?" Daryl asked and let go of Rick so he could help the others with the newborn.

Herschel approached Lori's baby and took a look at it. The child was still crying.

"The good news is she looks healthy. But she needs formula" the old man observed and looked at Daryl.

"And soon, or she won't survive."

"No. No way. Not her. We ain't losing nobody else. I'm going for a run" the hunter said and threw his crossbow over his shoulder.

"Beth" he murmured and nudged Herschel's daughter so she could come closer.

"Kid just lost his mom. His dad ain't doing so hot..."

Beth nodded.

"I'll look out for him."

Daryl nodded and looked at Oscar and Axel.

"You two get the fence. Too many pile up, we got ourselves a problem."

Then he looked at Connor, who was still just standing there and looked at Rick with wide eyes.

"Connor" he called out and the Irishman turned his head to look at him.

"Come on. Let's go."

Herschel approached Daryl then.

"I don't think he should leave. He needs to rest. Looks like he's got a concussion. I should take a look at that wound and.."

"Rick!" they heard Maggie call out and turned around in surprise.   
  
The former policeman was back on his feet now and grabbed the axe which he had dropped minutes before. He was glaring at Connor in a strange way, and then without a warning he turned around and headed for the cell block where Lori had died. The Irishman tried to go after him, but Daryl grabbed him by his arm to stop him. A second later Rick was already gone. Everyone just looked at the open door for a couple of seconds, completely confused.

"Let's get the formula" Connor said with a blank look on his face and the others turned around again to look at him.

Herschel approached him slowly.

"I don't think you should..."

The Irishman ignored him and headed for his friend's motorbike instead.

"Come on! We gotta hurry!" he spat and the others looked at Daryl then.

The hunter knew that it was wrong to take his friend with him like that, especially since they still had no clue how bad his injuries really were. But then he remembered Rick's breakdown, the look on his face, the look on Connor's face, and figured that maybe it was best to get his friend away from the prison for a bit. Daryl sighed and went after the Irishman.

"Get the gate" he demanded and started walking.


	24. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 5 " _Say The Word_ "

Daryl switched off the engine and got off his motorbike. Connor was still sitting on the vehicle, and it looked like he still wasn't really there yet. The hunter was worried, but he wouldn't tell him. The Irishman was staring into the distance, and that crept his friend out. He hated that Connor was so different, so quiet, so strange, so he nudged him and tried to smile.

"Ain't so bad, riding on my bike. Right? Never got yer hatred for this thing."

The blonde shook his head gently and blinked a few times, then he looked at Daryl for a second and got up.

"Shut up. Only fuckin girls ride on the back of a bike. And I ain't no fuckin girl. Fuckin gay that is" he growled and headed for the daycare they had found just down the road. Daryl followed his friend and snorted.

"Well look atcha. You can still cuss. Can't be that bad then."

"Fuck you" the Irishman growled and opened the gate to the playground.

It was strange to see all the abandoned swings and the dusty slide without any kids. Both men prayed to god that there wouldn't be any children that were now staggering around as walkers. Daryl walked faster than his friend, simply because Connor was still wavering a bit. Although the fresh air was doing him some good the headache was still killing him, and he still couldn't really see clearly. The hunter turned his head every once in a while to check on his friend because he was really worried. He could tell that Connor was different, and that not just because of the head trauma. The blonde was heading for one of the windows now, and Daryl decided to stop walking and keep watch.

"How yah feeling?" the hunter muttered after a while.

Connor looked inside the building but couldn't see anything apart from kid's furniture and toys.

"'m fine" he answered without meaning it.

Daryl walked backwards to approach the other man, but he wouldn't look at him.

"Sorry about what happened this morning by the way."

Connor got his gun out and broke the window with it. He got rid of the glass and sighed.

"It's okay. I know ye were just pissed cos of the girl."

He still wouldn't look at Daryl and seemed strangely different, and that confused his friend even more.  
The blonde rubbed his aching forehead and hissed.

"Ah, Jesus, fuck me" he groaned and Daryl got closer.

"You sure you're okay?"

The Irishman moved out of his reach and growled angrily.

"I said 'm fucking fine, alright? Let's get in there, we ain't got all day. Te little girl needs something t'eat."

The hunter raised an eyebrow and watched how his friend climbed inside. He tried to stay calm, but his Connor's crankiness just pissed him off. He had always thought that after one year of being with the Irishman he would have gotten used to his mood shifts by now, but oh lord was he wrong. He knew that Connor probably just acted like this because of the attack and the headache, but that still didn't change a thing.

Both men climbed inside and took a look around. They could see all sorts of cribs, books, toys and stuffed animals, but no walkers, blood or dead people anywhere. The older of the two went straight for the kitchen counters and started searching for the things Maggie had told them about, whereas Daryl approached a wall to their left. The hunter noticed countless cutouts of little hands that were glued to the wall, and there were names written on each one. For a while he just read all the different names and listened to how his friend searched all the drawers and cupboards. One name caught his attention then.

 _Sofie_.

He sighed softly and looked away. He still hated to think about it. His failure, her death. Even after months he still had to think about it every once in a while, and especially now that he had failed to save yet another girl he felt guilty all over again. Once again he could see the little girl, how she had been abused, how she had been screaming for help and most of all: how he had just been sitting there.  
  
Daryl clenched his fists around his crossbow and gritted his teeth. What made it even worse was the fact that he didn't even know her name. The hands made him sick. He tried to calm down and reminded himself that there was a new girl waiting for their help now, and maybe this time it could work _. Needed to work._

"We should split up" the hunter murmured and headed for the door.

Connor was kneeling on the ground and put some stuff in their bag. He didn't even look up. He just nodded.

"Aye. Good idea. Watch yer ass."

* * *

The corridor was dark and empty. Although there was dust and dirt all over the place he was surprised how clean the interior actually looked. It was both nice and creepy to come across toys and toys only, without any guts or blood. Daryl grabbed his flashlight and shined it at the several doors and inside the rooms, but he couldn't find any walkers. He entered a room which had a piece of paper on its door. _MISS SUE'S ROOM_ he read and snorted.

"Let's hope their ain't no Miss Sue in here" he muttered and pointed his crossbow at anything that could be dangerous.

He wasn't surprised when he found the room empty. The hunter sighed and looked at several bottles, but truth be told, he didn't have any idea what they were looking for. He let his gaze wander and looked at some children's drawings and pencils, and when he was just about to leave again he found an old doll on one of the tables. The faceless thing creeped him out a bit, but he still decided to take it with him, just so the baby had something nice to hold on to.   
  
Daryl was on his way back to his friend when slow and soft banging somewhere down the corridor startled him. He could make out that the noise was coming from the kitchen, so he made his way back there with his crossbow drawn and ready to shoot. He was pretty sure that there was a walker in the room, and when he entered the kitchen he realized that it was coming from one of the cupboards. He prepared himself for a possible fight, but when he opened the door a surprised snort escaped his mouth. An opossum was hissing and snapping at him. Daryl took aim to shoot the animal dead.

"Hello, dinner" he chuckled and took a look at his newest prey, then he searched the rest of the kitchen for anything useful.

* * *

As soon as Daryl had left the room Connor looked up to make sure that his friend was gone. He let out a gentle sigh and sat down on the ground. The Irishman moved his fingers through his hair and stared at the ground which he could hardly see. The sun was still way too bright and he felt terribly sick, but that wasn't even the worst part. He couldn't stop thinking about the look on Rick's face, his breakdown, his cries. _Why the fuck had he left Maggie and Lori alone?_ He couldn't stop asking himself that question. _Could he have done anything? Could he have prevented Lori's death?_

When he and Daryl had returned to the group he had made her his new task. He had been the one to look after her for the past couple of days. He had tried to protect her, to make sure she was alright. Simply because she had embodied sheer hope. The child had embodied hope. Family, the one thing that had always mattered to him. And now she was gone, and part of him feared that the newborn wouldn't survive as well.   
  
The blonde looked up with an awkward gasp and let his gaze wander. He saw the wall with the hand cutouts, the toys, the pictures, and that made it only worse. He had to think about Lori's child that was possibly dying, the little girl he had failed to save yesterday, Sophia...He shook his head and pressed his fists to his eyes when he remembered the other child he had failed to save, back in Boston. It was a vicious circle. Because just thinking about the whole Boston thing reminded him of his twin again, how he had failed to save _him_.

_You're the reason innocent 'n good people like the girl get killed._  
Because you're always too slow. Because your stupid plans get people killed.  


Connor knew that his friend had apologized for these words. Just minutes before. But that still didn't mean that he was right. Eunice, Tabby, Murphy, the little girl, Lori. Those people were dead because of his ideas, his plans to "make things right". The guilt was slowly eating him up. Lori was dead. Because he had left them.

"Look atcha. Did ye finally managed t'get a girl pregnant? Bout time, yer ain't getting any younger."

The Irishman turned his head in surprise. He could see his brother sitting there on a table opposite him, with an amused smirk on his face.

"Shut up" Connor murmured and squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened them again he could see that Murphy was still sitting there.  
He couldn't believe this was happening. It had been month since he had last seen his brother.  
His twin got up with a chuckle and approached him.

"Well hello t'you too, brother."

The older twin just looked at his younger half for a while, then he got up and turned around to search the rest of the cupboards.

"I know yer ain't real."

"Really?" he heard Murphy say and tensed when he felt his hand on his shoulder.

Connor hated when this sort of thing happened, because it felt _so_ real, because he _wanted_ it to be real.  
It still made his heart stop, and he still had to fight the tears, but this time they wouldn't come.  
He was just too furious.

"I know what yer thinking 'bout Connor."

The older MacManus snorted and put both his hands on the counter and leaned against it.

"Of course ye do. Yer just in my head, so of course ye know what's going on in there."

Murphy chuckled and shook him gently.

"Loads af bullshit, that's fer sure."

Connor smiled sadly and turned around to look at his twin.  
Although he knew that he was probably just hallucinating, he still was glad that his twin was with him right now.

"'s been a long time since I last saw ye, brother" he muttered and Murphy just stared back at him.  
Connor sighed and leaned against the counter.

"I had a dream about ye earlier. When this fucker knocked me out" he murmured.

Murphy let go of him and just looked at his brother.

"Did ye."

Connor nodded.

"Aye. You were asking me t'come with ye."

"But you didn't."

"Aye."

It was quiet for a while, and both brothers just looked at each other.

"I'm not like that anymore, Murph. I don't wanna die. I promised you. I wanna live."

Murphy raised an eyebrow and looked at his twin, judging him.

"Then why are ye thinking about something so stupid?"

Connor growled and turned around again to keep searching.

"It ain't stupid. 've been thinking about it fer days now. It's fer the best."

"You always think that yer stupid plans are fer the best. Sometimes they just ain't, brother."

The older twin hit the door of the cupboard hard.

"Shut up" he spat and looked down.

"Don't think I don't know that. Every fucking day I blame myself fer yer death. Fer making the wrong calls and getting ye killed. I shouldn't have told you t'wait fer me to move the car. I shouldn't have tried t'keep going at the docks. I should've made the right call and turned me back on fucking Boston. I should've dragged you with me instead of not watching yer back."

He clenched his fists.

"I shouldn't have made the decision to go through that cellar window and they wouldn't have caught us at Yakavetta's and Roc would still be alive. I shouldn't have run away from you to check on those fucking things and Eunice would still be alive. I shouldn't have told Romeo to take the ground floor on his own and he would still be alive. I should've ran in there sooner t'save this little girl from those cannibals. And I shouldn't have run away from Maggie and Lori and she would still be alive."

"Connor..."

"I said shut it! Just leave me alone, Murph."

Then he couldn't help but laugh.

"I mean yer not even real.."

"But..."

"SHUT. UP!" the Irishman suddenly yelled and knocked some of the pots over.  
He turned around to look at his brother, but then he had to realize that he was alone.

The Irishman growled and shook his head angrily because this was enough to finally make him snap. He headed for the window.  
He left the bag in the middle of the room so Daryl would be able to take the formula and bottles back to the prison, but he just needed to get out.  
Get away.

* * *

"Leprechaun! Look at that! Found us some diner!" Daryl announced as he approached the room they had come through.

He made sure that the opossum was nice to look at and maybe ready to throw. Daryl had never forgotten the thing with the eye when they had gone hunting last winter, and maybe this was his chance to give his friend some payback now. He had found some powdered formula as well, so they were ready to leave and help the little girl. He knew that they needed her alive, simply to give them some sort of hope and joy. Everything was so fucked these days, and now that Connor was cranky he just knew that he had to be the cheery one for a bit.

"Did yah find anything? How 'bout.." he trailed off when he found the room empty.

Their bag was lying on the ground, right in the middle of the room, but Connor was nowhere to be seen.

"Connor?" he called out and looked to his left and right.

There was nothing but silence and Daryl frowned.

"The fuck..?" he muttered and went back to search the corridor.

"Leprechaun!" he yelled, panic slowly rushing over him with every room he found empty.

"Come on! That ain't funny, man! We gotta go!"

When he reached the end of the corridor he turned around again and scanned his surroundings once more. He could hear nothing but the blowing of the wind. "Leprechaun!" he shouted and searched the corridor and rooms once more as he made his way back to the broken window. When he entered the large room they had come through he had to realize that he was alone inside the building.  
  
"Connor!" he spat and grabbed the bag so he could make his way out. He searched the whole yard in horror, feeling terribly alone all of a sudden. _Where the fuck was this clown?_ The hunter knew that his friend loved to play games with him every once in a while, but this was way too fucked up. _Had he passed out somewhere because of the concussion? What if he was lying somewhere but he had missed him? Where was he? What was he supposed to do?_ Daryl ran back to his motorbike to see if Connor was already there, but once again he had to realize that he was alone.

"Come on, man.." he muttered and scanned his surroundings once more, hoping to find his friend.

Lying somewhere, walking around somewhere, as long as he was _somewhere_. But he was all alone.

Daryl swallowed hard and waited a couple of minutes, but pretty soon he couldn't stop asking himself the question:   
  
_What if he left me?_  
  
For days Connor had been talking about leaving the group because he didn't like it here. He had been talking about going back up north. Back to Boston or god knows where. _How many times had they talked about leaving the group once and for all and heading back up North?_ _What if he had finally made the decision to leave and try to survive on his own? What if he had just used this opportunity, used_ _ **him**_ _to get away from the prison and all those people?_

The hunter took a deep breath and put both his hands on the seat of his motorbike, trying to keep calm. But it was useless. He was dead angry, so furious, so...alone. He kicked his bike hard and started walking in circles. _First Merle, then Carol and now Connor? How was he supposed to deal with this shit?_ In just a couple of months he had lost two brothers. Two brothers had run away from him. _Left_ him.

"Stop this shit now and get yer ass back here!" he yelled as loud as he could, but even then no answer would come.

Connor wouldn't come from behind some trees or through the window, not even walkers would come right now. Daryl was all alone.  
He couldn't believe this. After everything they had been through. After this winter and everything he had done for him after that bite.  
It couldn't be true. This wasn't the Connor he knew. That fucking bastard couldn't just leave him like that.  
The hunter bit his lip hard and grabbed his bike again to sit down and start the engine.

"Fine! I didn't need yah anyway! 't hell with yah!" he yelled at the empty building and waited a bit longer, still hoping that Connor would finally come out, but when nothing would happen Daryl shook his head angrily and drove off.

* * *

For a couple of minutes he just drove down the road back to the prison, trying his hardest not to lose it. He felt so lonely, so betrayed, so hurt and incredibly sad. He remembered the couple of hours he had spent mourning when he had thought that Connor was dead. How devastated he had felt because of the whole bite thing. Now he had to realize that this was way way worse. The uncertainty. The questions.   
  
_Why? How was he? Where was he? Had he been wrong? Was Connor really just lying around somewhere and he had abandoned him?_   
  
Daryl hit the brakes hard and just stood there in the middle of the road for a while, staring at nothing in particular. _What the fuck was he supposed to do?_ The little girl needed his help, needed the formula. But fucking Connor needed him as well, and they both knew it. They both knew that Daryl needed him just as much, maybe even much more than he would ever admit. "I ain't gonna make it that easy for you, you fucking bastard" he growled and turned his bike around.

He cursed himself for doing this to the little girl, but he was sure that he would be able to track Connor down soon. He had seen his friend in action, in the woods, and he knew that the Irishman wasn't good at covering his tracks. Hell, he couldn't even really read them. So the hunter made his way back to the nursery, back to his friend, knowing that his anger was dominating him right now and that the Irishman deserved one hell of a payback for all the drama he was causing.

* * *

Connor was walking down the empty road. Or more like staggering. He had to stop and rest way more often the usual, now that he felt so sick because of the headache that he feared he would lose all his stomach contents way too soon. He didn't even know where he was going, all he knew was that he wanted to get out. Being with a group had been wrong. A couple of months back, right after Murphy's death, he had sworn to never be with people ever again. Not to form any sort of relationships ever again. Because they just meant trouble, made him feel guilty whenever another life was lost, and it was the dying part that he just couldn't do anymore.

He had been okay with it back in the old days. When Romeo had died. When their Da had died. Simply because he'd always had Murphy, and with Murphy he had never felt hopeless and alone. But now that his twin was gone such bad feelings like guilt and frustration were really getting to him, slowly tearing him apart all over again. And it wasn't like the group wanted him there anyway, right?  
  
They had been looking at him like he was a freak. He had heard them talk about the bite, and now he had failed to protect and save Lori, the only person in this group who had always been nice to him, no matter what. He was no longer needed there anymore. This stupid group didn't need him. And he didn't need them. He didn't need anyone.

People just meant trouble. And trouble meant even more deaths of beloved friends and family.

He wasn't exactly the one to make decisions like that in just a matter of seconds, but the death of so many innocent in just two days and now his concussion had really shaken him to the core. Or maybe that was just the headache talking and thinking. Whatever it was that made him walk, it didn't matter anymore, because he knew that it was already too late now anyway. Daryl would be long since gone by now. So he kept walking.

He just needed a break from all the mess.

The blonde knew that it wasn't very wise to walk down some road out of all things. He was supposed to stay and hide in the woods. Daryl had taught him this after all, but right now his mind wasn't really working anyway. He didn't know for how long he had been walking, because soon he had lost track of space and time, his mind slowly switching itself off because of the headache and exhaustion. All the more did it startle him when he heard the sound of some engine somewhere behind him.  
  
The Irishman turned around in surprise and backed off, but it was already too late. The driver had already seen him. Connor growled and started walking again when he recognized the vehicle, recognized the driver. He knew it would be impossible to outrun him, and it wasn't like he was able to run right now anyway. Not with this headache. The motorbike eventually drove past him and came to a halt right in front of him to block his way. Daryl switched off the engine and got off his motorbike, anger written all over his face. Connor stopped walking and just looked at him.

"Mind telling me what the fuck this is about?" his friend yelled and shoved him hard.

"I've been driving around forever! Wasting fuel, drawing walkers in, yelling my goddamn lungs out!" he went on and shoved him again.

"What the fuck is wrong with yah?! I thought we were gonna get shit for the baby! And then you get lost and wander off? What the fuck?!"

Connor just looked at his friend.

"Aye. And we did get this stuff. But I ain't going back with ye."

Daryl exploded.

"What? Don't talk bullshit! Why?"

Connor didn't say anything to that and just snorted. He turned around and stared into the distance, until he finally had the guts to talk.

"I never wanted ta go back t'them, man. I just went because I knew you wanted that.  
But the fucking truth is that we were better off on our own.  
It was less fucking complicated. I never asked fer this shit."

Daryl frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? This group needs us. And we need them. If it weren't for us then more people would have died today."

"If it weren't fer me no one would have died today!" Connor yelled and Daryl fell quiet.

"Shut up. That ain't true" he said after a moment and the blonde opposite him snorted.

"Of course it fucking is. I should've shot them right from the off. Right when I saw those prison scumbags. I knew there was something wrong with 'em. I mean just think about it. I give ye that bigass speech about how it's my job ta clean all te filth of the streets and then this? I just let 'em walk and made them move inside the cell block right next fucking door?"

Daryl folded his arms and shook his head.

"Anyone should've seen it and killed them. Not just you. Me? Rick? T? We were all just standing there and let 'em go."

"Yeah, fucking fine. I give you that. But even without all that, I shouldn't have left Maggie with Lori and she'd still be alive."

The hunter finally had enough of all this pathetic talk. He approached his friend and grabbed him by his shirt with an angry growl.

"How? Huh? How were yah gonna help them? You know shit about childbirth? Use yer brain!   
You did everything you could, now get yer ass back on this fucking bike."

"I ain't going back there. Cause everything goes fucking downhill all the time. I don't need this shit. I don't even wanna care about anything anymore" the Irishman growled and shoved his friend away.

Daryl growled and grabbed him by his shirt.

"Of course yer coming back!" Daryl spat and glared at him.

Connor tried to fight him off.

"Fuck off! This isn't yer decision to make!"

The Irishman managed to get rid of his friend's hands and tried to leave again, but Daryl lost it as soon as Connor had turned his back on him.  
He darted forward and grabbed his friend by his shirt, then he wrestled him to the ground and pinned him down.

"You don't get to leave" he spat and the blonde looked up at him. He snorted and stared Daryl right in the eye.

"Or what?"

Daryl pressed his forearm to his throat and moved closer, to a point where their noses were almost touching.  
For a moment they just looked each other right in the eye, trying to break the other somehow, but neither of them would give in.

"Let go of me" Connor growled and Daryl shook his head. He wouldn't stop glaring at his friend.

"I said let fucking go of me!" the Irishman yelled and the hunter shook his head once more, and this time he lost it as well.

"And I said you ain't leaving, you asshole!" he yelled back and the blonde underneath him lost it even more.

"I'm gonna break yer neck if ye don't let me go!" he yelled and almost managed to buck Daryl off.

"No!"

"Why do they always fucking die?!" Connor finally spat and Daryl let go of his friend's arms so the Irishman could cover his face with his hands.

"No matter what I fucking do, it always gets people fucking killed, man! All my friends in Boston, the fucking dog, the kid yesterday, now T-Dog, Carol and Lori! M'brother, they keep fucking dying and I can never fucking save 'em and I'm done with this shit!"

"What about the baby?! She ain't dead yet, you can still save her, can't you?! Now stop this stupid pathetic whiny talk and think!"

Connor took a deep breath and covered his eyes because he still had the worst headache in his life.  
He tried to calm down, but right now he was just incredibly stressed and in pain.  
Daryl wouldn't let go, and that didn't really make it better.

"You're just talking bullshit right now and you know it. I can see that. Bastard gave yer melon one hell of a beating, I give him that.  
Now stop that shit. They got a newborn over there, man. It ain't your fault, and we all need yah."

They both looked up when he heard the rustling of the corn to their left.  
Pretty soon he could hear the moaning and groaning of some walkers who were getting closer.  
Daryl looked back down at Connor, who was still lying on the ground, with both his hands pressed to his face.

"Come on, we gotta go" Daryl said and offered his friend a hand.

The Irishman let go of his face and looked at the hand for a moment, then he craned his neck to look at the abandoned road behind him. He hated his friend for making the whole thing a lot harder, now that he was actually with him. It would have been easy for Connor to just keep walking and turn his back on his friend with him not being there, but now?  
  
He eyed Daryl with a frown, saw the look on his face, hell, his face in general. He knew that all his Murphy hallucinations and dreams weren't real, how much it hurt him every time he had to realize that his brother wasn't physically there. But Daryl was there. All flesh and blood. And he _was_ real. He looked at the outstretched hand and then turned his head to their left, where he could see three walkers that were stumbling towards them, leaving the cornfield to get them.

"Come on!" Daryl yelled and kicked him gently.

Connor knew that he didn't stand a chance against those walkers with this sort of headache, even if they didn't attack him or did attack him.  
He growled and sat up to take his friend's hand.


	25. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 5 " _Say The Word_ "

When they finally got back to the prison it was dark outside. Daryl grabbed their bag and was the first to run inside, and for a moment Connor just stood next to his friend's bike and stared at the dark silhouette of the prison building. He still couldn't stop thinking about Rick's breakdown, and when he looked at the spot where he had seen their leader fall to the ground it felt like he was still lying there. The Irishman sighed and let his gaze wander, only to fix his eyes on the door to the cell block Lori had died in.   
  
_Was she still in there? Dead, maybe undead and staggering around? Where was Rick? How was he going to react?_  
Part of him just wanted to leave again. He just needed a break from everything, but in the end he knew that Daryl wouldn't ever let him leave.

"Everything alright?" he heard Glenn ask and looked up in surprise.

The Korean made his way to the door to their cell block and looked at him. Connor sighed and decided to follow him.

"Aye. Been quiet. Nothing unusual happened."

* * *

They entered the cell block and heard the little girl crying inside. Connor didn't know what her problem was, if she was hurt or just hungry, but it still crept him out. Crying was never a good sign, and he was glad that Maggie and Beth were still with them. And now that he thought about it he had to admit that Daryl had been right about the whole thing. He didn't want to imagine the cries that could've rung through these halls if they had kept the baby waiting any longer just because of his stupid decision to try to leave.  
  
Daryl was right. This little girl was still alive, and she certainly needed protection and food. Not only because she was a newborn, but because she was _Lori_ 's newborn. It didn't matter if it was his fault that her mother was dead. He owed Rick's wife that. He needed to protect her little girl now, either to make up for the death he had caused or for the life he had failed to save.   
  
The Irishman made his way down the stairs and was even more surprised when he realized that the women weren't holding the newborn, but Daryl. Connor tried his best not to stand there and watch in utter surprise, but he just couldn't keep his mouth shut, especially now that the girl stopped crying in his friend's arms. Beth and Maggie were preparing the formula they had found, and the blonde approached them and folded his arms awkwardly.

"Is that the right stuff? I wasn't sure when I found it, not exactly an expert there.." he murmured and Maggie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

Connor nodded and withdrew to the back of the room so he could watch the whole scenario in silence and without being in the way.  
He leaned against the wall and sat down on the ground, messaging his temples with a soft moan.  
Beth handed Daryl the baby bottle and the hunter tried to get the little girl to drink.  
  
"Come on. Come on" he demanded and hushed and rocked the newborn, and when she finally started drinking he let out a surprised chuckle. Daryl looked at all of them and seemed very proud of himself, and when his gaze met Connor's he grinned even more. The Irishman tried to stay grumpy and remind himself of everything that had happened today, all the people they had lost, the fact that he had almost got killed, that his head hurt like hell and that he had almost left the group, but even that couldn't keep him from smiling back.

It was both incredibly nice and sad to see Daryl holding a baby. Nice because they really needed this sort of thing right now. After all the deaths there was finally some new and fresh life in their midst, and after losing so many children they finally had a new one, a baby. He had missed child's laughter and even the crying, so Lori's baby was definitively a good thing. But at the same time it just made him sad as well. Because this was the one thing he had always tried to forget, to ignore.   
  
He watched how Daryl rocked the child and fed her and he couldn't stop thinking about the one thing he would never ever be. _An uncle_. He would never see that proud smile on his brother's face, he would never see him rocking their own flesh and blood, the next generation of their family. There would never ever be a new MacManus, he would never be a father, never be an uncle, simply because he would never bring a child into this fucked up world and because Murphy would never have any kids.   
  
Because his brother was dead. And he was the very last member of their family. He knew that he and Murphy had sworn that they would never get married, that they would never be in a real relationship with women, simply because they had each other. But now that his twin was gone he didn't have anything left at all. Although he still had Daryl and the others, it would never ever replace that bond, his real family. And although there were so many people and a child so close to him he felt terribly alone all of a sudden.

"She got a name yet?" he heard his friend ask and looked at Carl as well.

Rick's son shook his head.

"Not yet. But I was thinking...maybe Sofia? Then there's Carol, too.."

Connor could see how the look on Daryl's face changed drastically. Even after all these months he still hated to be reminded of Sofia, and now that Carol was gone it only made it worse. The hunter couldn't snap or leave or get angry though, because of the fragile newborn in his arms, and the Irishman was quite surprised how calm his friend could stay. The look on Daryl's face changed eve more, to a point were the hunter actually looked upset.

"And... Andrea...Amy...Jacqui...Patricia...or...Lori.." Carl took a deep breath and looked down.

"I don't know.." he whispered and turned away. He looked at Connor and sniffed, his eyes red and watery. The Irishman sighed and got up.

"What about Annabelle?" he muttered and the whole group looked at him.

The blonde folded his arms and leaned against the wall with a tired sigh.  
It was now time to put the mask back on, to hide how he truely felt about everything that happened today.   
He needed to be the Connor everyone knew. The funnyman. The leprechaun.

"That was my Ma's name. Always thought it's a pretty name. Means something like joy, beautiful, graceful..."

He looked at the child in Daryl's arms and smiled a bit.

"Loveable."

The hunter smirked and looked at the baby as well.

"You like that? Huh? Little ass-kicker?"

He looked at the others and grinned.

"Right? That's a good name, right?"

Everybody chuckled. Daryl rocked her even more and chuckled as well.

"Little ass-kicker. You like that, huh? You like that, sweetheart?"

The little girl let go of the bottle and hiccupped, which made everybody laugh again.  
Even Connor had to laugh, despite the circumstances.  
He chuckled and shook his head.

"Dude, yer not calling her 'little ass-kicker'. She's a girl."

Daryl looked up and frowned.

"So what? Yah mean girls can't kick some ass? She sure as hell's gonna kick some serious ass when she's older. Isn't that right, ass-kicker?  
Don't listen to him, he don't know nothing."

Connor got closer and frowned at his friend for a second, then he looked at the little girl in his arms.

"No, don't listen t' _him_! He ain't got no clue how ta treat a lady. Little princess, that's what you are."

Daryl snorted loudly and looked at Connor.

"'Little princess'? Seriously?"

The Irishman pointed at the child.

"She sure is! Just look at that face. 'Ass-kicker' sounds fucking ugly, and that girl ain't ugly. And just look at us, gathering around her like she's some turkey on thanksgiving, everyone obviously adores her, so of course she's a fucking princess. Kneel before me and all that."

The hunter chuckled.

"'s what I'm saying. She's gonna kick our ass when we don't do what she wants. You've heard her, lungs like an elephant. Ass-kicker it is."

"Then maybe we should give her some cool name. Like, in those action movies. Her Da's a cop, aye? How about...trooper toddler. Or..,fuck, I dunno, those comic thingies. All those tough women who do all sorts of tough shit all te time. That's some serious ass-kicking, too."

Daryl frowned angrily and looked at his friend in disbelief.

"We ain't calling her after some chick you saw in a fucking movie, dumbass."

"And 'little ass-kicker' is so much better?"

"And yah think walkers are gonna run away from someone called 'trooper toddler'?!"

"It's a whole lotta more creative than yer shit!"

And the group started laughing again, but this time because they felt like they were watching two uncles fight over who was the better relative and who had the biggest and best presents for christmas.

* * *

Rick wouldn't turn up again. The group agreed to go and look for their leader as soon as the sun was back up again. Connor still blamed himself for Lori's death, which was why he wasn't looking forward to that particular reunion. As for now he was just incredibly tired. He hadn't slept in two days, and the cleaning out the prison, the fight with the cannibals, the walker invasion and the fight with Andrew had completely exhausted him, to a point where he didn't even care about his nightmares anymore.   
  
He just wanted to sleep, and this time he chose his cell instead of placing himself right next to Daryl on the perch. The hunter was surprised when he friend just walked past him, but he was tired as well so he didn't say anything. Since Connor's cell was the one that led straight to the perch the hunter could still see his friend, how he took his time to get rid of his dirty shirt.

For a minute the Irishman looked at the bloody fabric in his hands, completely lost in thoughts. He could see all sorts of blood stains and dirt on it, and it reminded him of the walker that had been lying right on top of him. It made him angry and confused all over again. The undead could've bit him, but somehow no such thing had happened. He remembered how the thing had fallen right on top of him, how it had sniffed on his blood like some dog.  
  
The walker had obviously tried to attack him at first. He had shown interest in him after all, and the blonde wasn't used to that anymore. Connor hated how he couldn't understand what was going on with his _own_ body. So he was immune, the fever and a bite would probably never kill him, the walker blood just made him sick, sometimes the undead tried to eat him, sometimes they didn't...it was driving him insane not to know anything for sure, and he hated how he couldn't just go out and kill walkers so easily anymore. The Irishman growled and used his old shirt to wipe his face, then he threw it in a corner to get a new one.

Daryl just watched his friend and stared at his large back tattoo. He was so glad that Connor was still there. For just a moment he had thought that his friend had just left him like his brother, and it had been one of the most terrible experiences in his life. He didn't want him to leave. Ever. The hunter tried to imagine what it would be like if his cell were empty. No grumpy or over-cheery leprechaun who was walking around and brooding, no one with silly religious tattoos he could laugh about... Daryl sighed and shook his head. It was a grotesque scenario.  
  
He didn't even know how he had been able to enjoy the silence, the loneliness once. Before Connor he had been alone after Merle had disappeared, hell, even with Merle he had always felt alone. The hunter had always thought that it had been okay like that, that he didn't need anyone anyway, but now he had to realize that he had been fooling himself all the time. He had always told himself that lie, simply because he had never known what it felt like to truly appreciate a friendship, to truly like being with someone, especially when they weren't your own blood.  
  
But then last winter had happened, and he was so used to that now that everything else just felt weird and wrong. He wanted to be with this group, and he wanted to be with Connor. No matter what. The younger of the two watched the other for a little while longer, and when it got obvious that Connor wasn't going to come out of his cell tonight Daryl growled and grabbed his stuff instead.

Connor startled when something was thrown to the ground right next to him, and when he turned around he could see Daryl, who was standing by the door to his cell. His friend had thrown his blankets and pillows inside and looked at him as well.

"Mover yer fat ass" he growled and made his way past Connor, but not without bumping his shoulder against the blonde's chest.

The Irishman huffed and raised an eyebrow.

"Ow. What te fuck?"

Daryl fell to his knees and started moving his things on the ground.

"What's it look like. I ain't sleeping on no perch anymore. And I told yah last time. 'm moving into some cell."

He adjusted the pillow he had stolen from one of the other cells.

"This is my cell now" he stated and tried not to smirk.

There was no way he would ever tell Connor that he wanted to share a cell with him, so he wanted to make it look like he was going to throw his friend out. He knew that Connor would never leave his cell like that, and this was exactly what he wanted to achieve. The Irishman acted just like he had thought and lay down on his bed with a snort.

"Fuck ye, I ain't gonna move shit. Get yer own."

"No, I need this one. Closer to the stairs in case walkers attack and I gotta save the day again. Now, fuck off" Daryl countered without meaning it and lay down on his makeshift bed as well. His friend chuckled and shifted on his bed until he was more comfortable.

"Ye wish" he muttered and stared at the bottom of the bed above him for a while.

Daryl wouldn't say anything anymore, so he turned his head to look at the man on the ground with a smirk.

"Why are ye lying on the ground? It's a bunk bed, y'know" he murmured and looked straight up again.  
  
Then a grin broke through.

"I thought yer a top."

Daryl snorted.

"Shut up and sleep."

The Irishman chuckled.

"Alright, Ma."

He turned his back on Daryl and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Night, Murph."

Soon it was quiet inside the cell block apart from Herschel's gentle snoring. For the first time they really felt the absence of all the people they had lost today. T-Dog. Carol. Lori. Rick, who was probably still raging through the corridors and searching for his dead wife...Their group felt so small all of a sudden. Now it were just Connor and Daryl. Carl and the newborn. Herschel and Beth. Maggie and Glenn. The hunter sighed and stared at the ceiling.   
  
They had used to be -so- many people. Back in Atlanta. Back on Herschel's farm. Although he had been way more pissed off and lonelier back then, it had still been better with so many people around. He turned his head again and looked at his friend, who still had his back turned on him. If Connor had left today then their group would have consisted of eight people. Just _eight_. Against the whole world, against evil bastards like the cannibals or the prisoners.  
No matter how strong and independent he was, it still scared Daryl.

"Hey leprechaun" he muttered after a moment and Connor answered with a tired "Huh."

"You promised yer brother that yer not gonna kill yerself. Ever. That right?"

The Irishman shifted a bit, and it was obvious that he didn't like talking about it.

"Aye" he murmured after a while and Daryl nodded.

"And yah ain't the type t'break promises, right?"

"If yer asking what I think yer asking, then no, I ain't gonna try that shit again. So yeah, I keep me promises. Kept most of them in fact.  
Only had ta break some when it was life or death."

He finally turned around and looked at Daryl with a frown.

"Why are ye asking?"

Daryl sighed and kept staring at the ceiling.

"Cos you gotta promise me something as well."

Connor raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"Well, aren't yer adorable. We really up to this shit now? Want me t'make us friendship bracelets?"

The younger growled and glared at his friend.

"Fuck you. I'm serious."

The Irishman eyed him with an amused smirk, then he finally seemed to get that it really mattered to his friend.

"What is it, then?"

"Promise yer ain't gonna leave. Ever. Not because of some whiny feelings bullshit, not because of some stupid choices, not because you can't stand someone. Promise me that yer not gonna do the same shit like today ever again."

Connor just looked at his friend for a very long while. He hated that Daryl was forcing him into something like that, practically trying to take his freedom away just because he knew that he really wasn't the kind of man to break a promise or an important law. Not breaking a promise was an important law for friendships, so he would betray his inner moral compass if he broke something like this. The Irishman sighed and shook his head.

"Funny that. Couple of months ago ye tried anything t'get me outta yer group. And now this?"

Daryl snorted.

"Shut up. You know that shit's changed between us."

Connor chuckled.

"You mean that ye suddenly have feelings fer me, Darlyna? Yeah, I know."

Daryl grabbed his friend's dirty shirt from the corner and threw it at the Irishman.

"Fuck you" the hunter growled and turned his back on the blonde.

Connor threw the shirt away again and sighed.

"Alright. I promise."

Daryl turned around again and eyed his friend.

"Really?"

Connor sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"Aye."

Silence.

"Guess I was just overreacting today. I was fucking stressed, 've got the worst headache in me life and I was fucking upset because of all those people dying, okay?"

Daryl just looked at him and nodded.

"Hmhm."

Connor nodded as well and turned around again so he could try to sleep. But Daryl wouldn't let go just yet.  
He still couldn't stop thinking about everything the Irishman had yelled at him today. Everything he had heard and seen for the past couple of months.  
He stared at his friend's back that moved with every breath he took and started chewing on his fingernails.

"Hey, what I said this morn, that ain't true."

"What?" Connor just murmured without turning around.

"It ain't your fault. None of that."

It took the Irishman a while to answer, and when he did he didn't believe in it himself.

"I know" he just said, but his memories were telling him something different.

* * *

Pretty much the whole cell block woke up in the middle of the night when the little girl started crying again. All the more did it surprise Connor when he saw that Daryl was still sound asleep on the ground. The Irishman groaned tiredly and sat up to hear better. He could hear some muttering underneath their cell. The blonde rubbed his eyes and got up to see what was going on.   
  
The group had put the little girl in an extra cell, right between Carl's and Maggie's and Glenn's, so he made his way down the stairs to see who was taking care of the crying little mess. He could see Carl and Maggie inside the baby's cell, and after some thinking and looking up the stairs to make sure that Daryl wasn't coming he decided to go and help them. He hadn't been able to get much sleep anyway, now that the guilt and the nightmares were still torturing him.

"Can I do something?" he murmured and blinked a few times.

Carl and Maggie, who was trying to calm the little girl down, turned around in surprise and looked at him.

"No, it's okay. I've got it" Maggie answered tiredly, and it was obvious that she was just as exhausted and nightmare-ridden as him.

Connor got closer and looked at the crying girl.

"Hey hey hey, little princess. What's wrong? Been having nightmares? We all have" he tried to calm her down and much to his surprise it actually worked.

The little baby was still crying, but it looked like she was getting interested in him. She stared at the Irishman with wide eyes, and Maggie let out a gentle chuckle.

"Looks like she likes your voice" she noticed and Connor chuckled as well.

"Well, aye. Can I?" he asked and pointed at the bundle in Maggie's arms.

Herschel's daughter eyed him head to toe.

"You know how to hold a baby?"

The Irishman nodded with a smirk.

"Aye. Got to hold one once, back in church. My Ma had a friend there, and she had a couple of kids.  
Besides, we were a big family, small village, everyone was practically family. Helping each other and all that."

"What about your..you know, infection? Maybe we should keep you away from her."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"Do ye really think I would risk a little girl's life like that if I wasn't entirely sure the whole thing's not contagious?  
Don't worry. Daryl came in direct contact. More than once. And he's obviously still fine. Besides, Rick told ye.  
We're _all_ infected."

Maggie turned her head to look at Carl, who had been watching them cautiously, never missing a single movement and how they treated his little sister. Rick's son nodded after a moment and she handed the baby over. Although he had asked for it the Irishman still let out a surprised gasp, but once Maggie had made sure that he was holding the girl correctly he looked at the small bundle in his arms, completely dumfounded.

"Wow, she's heavier than she looks" he chuckled and grinned at Maggie.

He adjusted the girl's clothes with one hand and started rocking her gently.

"Now hush hush, superheroines don't cry. And yer one superwoman, aye? That's what you are. Yer not an ass kicker, yer more than that.  
You got superpowers. Superstrong lungs, that's fer sure" he observed and looked at Maggie and Carl with a chuckle.

The little girl had stopped crying and was now sucking on her little thumbs.

"I've always wanted t'do that, ye know?" he told her and started walking up and down the small cell.

"I know, what a surprise. But truth be told, sometimes I was getting sick of all that guns and running and hiding and fighting crap.  
I mean 't was fun, but this is also fun. Yer loads of fun" he went on and smiled at the child in his arms.

"And see? You got te superpower not t'cry and make everyone happy with that" he snorted and looked at the others again.

"Sorry 'm talking loads of bullshit here. Don't even know what 'm doing. I just heard her cry and I hate when kids are upset, so I just thought I should help."

Maggie smiled.

"You're doing great. Besides, I think we could use all the help we can get with her."

The Irishman nodded and rocked the little girl a bit more until she was starting to fall asleep.

"Alright. I got it covered" he said and looked at Maggie.

"You can go back t'bed. 'm gonna make her fall asleep and put her back in hers as well. I just..need a minute with Carl?"

Rick's son looked up in surprise and frowned. Herschel's daughter looked at the two of them and frowned as well.

"You sure?"

Connor nodded and sat down next to the improvised crib.

"Aye. 'm gonna get ye if I need help with 'er. We need you fit fer tomorrow."

Maggie looked at Carl for a bit longer, then she nodded and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night."

"See you tomorrow" the other two answered and waited for a bit to make sure that Maggie was really gone.

Connor watched the little girl in his arms for a little bit longer. She made him feel happy, and right now he was more than glad that he had gone back with Daryl. Maybe his friend was right. Maybe this was the first life he could actually save in a very long while.

"You thought about a name?" he asked and looked at Rick's son.

Carl sat down next to him and shook his head.

"No. I wanted to ask Dad."

The Irishman nodded and looked up.

"Aye. Good idea."

Carl sighed and stared at his feet for a moment.

"Do you think he's dead?"

Connor shook his head.

"Nah. He's yer Da. He's too tough to be dead."

"I've never seen him cry like that before" the boy said quietly and the Irishman looked at him.

"How are you, Carl?" he asked after a moment and the boy looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"My Mom is dead."

Connor sighed and looked at the child in his arms, who was sleeping now.  
Guilt rushed all over him again, and although the little girl made him happy he couldn't help but feel like crap again.

"Listen, there's a reason I wanted t'talk ta you" he began and took a deep breath.

"'m so fucking sorry I left you and yer Ma. 'm really sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have left you. I should've listened t'you when ye asked me to stay."

Carl looked at him.

"It wasn't your fault. There's nothing you could've done. Mum wanted Maggie to cut her open."

The Irishman turned his head and looked at the boy next to him in surprise.

"What?"

"It was her decision. She wanted to save my sister" Carl murmured and looked at his sibling.

Connor kept looking at him.

"I thought she died because of the complications. Cos there was no one there t'help Maggie pull yer sister out."

The boy shook his head.

"No. I helped her. It was the cut that killed her. She wanted it that way."

Connor took a deep breath and got up to put the sleeping baby back in her crib.  
When he sat back down next to Carl again he buried his face in both his hands and sighed gently.

"Fuck. I'm so sorry, Carl."

"Can I ask you something?" the boy asked after a while and Connor looked at him.

"Af course."

"Is it true that you had to shoot your brother, too? To keep him from turning?"

The Irishman just looked at him. Even after such a long time he could still remember every single second of that day. Everything he had seen and felt. The weight of his gun, how he had been struggling to pull the trigger, the look on his dead brother's face, the incredible pain in his chest right where his heart was.

"Aye" he answered quietly and Carl looked at him.

"How did you feel?"

Connor took another deep breath and tried not to start bawling all over again.

"Did you shoot yer Ma? After she died?" he asked instead.

Carl nodded slowly and the Irishman nodded as well.

"Then ye know how I felt."


	26. Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 5 " _Say the Word_ " and episode 6 " _Hounded_ "

The sun was still rising. Both Connor and Daryl enjoyed the fact that it wasn't so freaking hot yet, how quiet and peaceful it really was. No one else was awake yet, and if it weren't for his nightmares that woke him up every morning then Connor would've been asleep as well. But here he was now, walking down the small hill next to their prison yard with Daryl. Neither of them would say anything, simply because the Irishman was still too tired and the hunter didn't feel like talking in general.  
  
They were heading for the three wooden crosses on the other side of the small meadow. It was a beautiful morning and there were hardly any walkers by the fences. Daryl was the first the reach the three graves, and it looked like he wanted to be on his own for a bit. Connor headed for the grave that was further left whereas his friend stopped in front of the grave to their right. Both men just looked at the wooden crosses.

The older of the two wasn't sure which grave belonged to Lori, so he just picked one and looked at it. Although Carl had made him feel a bit better yesterday night with the information on how Lori had died he still couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew that both Daryl and her son were right, that even if he had been there he wouldn't have been able to help her, but that still wouldn't change a thing. The Irishman hated how he had just tried to help her and it still hadn't been enough.  
  
Lori had been the first person to take care of him when the group had found him. She had given him food and information, and although he had looked horrible back then she still had been kind. He knew that Rick's wife had made some terrible mistakes, especially regarding her husband and Shane, but it had never really been his problem. She had always trusted him, asked him for help, allowed him to help her with her son. Sometimes it had felt like Lori had been a mother to them all, no matter if she was younger or just a bit older than them.  
  
Now she was gone, and everyone could _feel_ her absence. The Irishman sighed and swallowed hard. _'m sorry I couldn't save you. 'm sorry I couldn't protect you. But I promise I'm gonna look after yer family. Yer little girl, Carl. I'm gonna make sure they're safe._ He closed his eyes and grabbed his rosaries to start praying for her, for T-Dog, for Carol, for everyone they had lost.

Daryl just stood there and looked at the cross that he thought belonged to Carol. He eyed his friend carefully and waited until he closed his eyes to start praying for the dead, and once he had made sure that Connor could not see him he reached inside his vest to get out the fragile flower he had found. For a second he just looked at its white petals and stroke them with his thumb.  
  
The hunter had been upset this morning. Upset and angry. Because Carol had always mattered to him, ever since she had lost Sophia. He had always known that her husband had abused her, that her life had always been hard just like his own. This had been the very reason why he had always felt a connection between them, because this was the part Connor would never be able to understand. What it felt like to get abused and be hated by your own family.

No matter how much the Irishman really meant to him, sometimes he was getting tired of all his family stories, how strong his bond with his twin had been, how caring and funny their mother had been, their family prayer, the gifts, the reunion with their father. How close and funny and loving his entire family had been back in Ireland. Daryl couldn't help but feel jealous and angry then, and he had enjoyed being with Carol instead. Because she would never talk about family in that regard, because he had always felt like they understood each other better than Connor would ever understand him.  
  
But now she was gone, and this had made him so angry. He had been just about to explode again when Connor wouldn't leave him alone when he needed space, and just when they had almost gotten into yet another fight he had seen the flower. The Cherokee rose. A flower to give them hope, to signalize that everything was going to be okay. And ever since he had found it he couldn't help but feel hopeful. Maybe it was a sign. _Maybe Carol wasn't dead?_ _They had never found her body after all. Maybe she just got lost in this maze of corridors and cells._

Daryl knelt down to place the rose on the empty grave, careful not to crush its fragile petals.  
Once he had made sure the flower was in place he put a hand on the wooden cross, imagining it was Carol's shoulder.

_I'm gonna find you. Dead or alive. I promise I will find you. I promise I will bring someone home this time._

He got back up and looked at the flower and cross a little bit longer, then Connor shifted and looked at him.

"What's it with the flower? I never got t'ask ye" he murmured and approached his friend with both his hands in his pockets.

He looked at the cross and the white flower, and so did Daryl.

"It's a Cherokee rose. There's a legend 'bout it. Short version: it's a sign of hope. Gives people strength."

Connor nodded.

"That's nice."

The hunter just looked at the graves. The man next to him sighed and let his gaze wander for a moment.

"Speaking of nice. That's a nice spot t'bury the dead. 's beautiful here."

Daryl nodded and looked up as well.

"Yeah" he muttered and turned his head when he heard his friend chuckle.

Although there was a smile on Connor's face the Irishman looked a bit sad.

"Reminds me of that one place back 'n Ireland. Minus the fences."

"What kinda place?" Daryl asked and frowned.

Connor shook his head and chuckled once more.

"Back when we were hiding from te police me 'n my brother worked on a sheep farm. Already told ye that story. Anyway, one day we were watching over 'em and stood on a hill. Just like this one. Maybe 'bit higher. And we had a fucking fantastic view fram up there. Fucking beautiful that was."

Daryl didn't say anything and just looked at his friend, who closed his eyes for a while.  
Connor tried to imagine the view again, the smell, the feeling of having his other half next to him.

"Murph spent months complaining about how fucking quiet Ireland was compared t'Boston.  
Why we had to quit our job, why I dragged him away and back t'this quiet country life bullshit."

He opened his eyes again and looked at the fences opposite them with a faint smile.

"But then we were standing on a hill like this one. And he fucking loved it.  
Said if we were ever going to die he would love t'be buried on a hill like the one we were standing on, maybe even the same one."

He looked at the crosses in front of them.

"So it's nice t'see that Lori, Carol and T get t'rest on a hill like that."

The hunter eyed his friend for a while.

"Why don't you just bury him next to them?" he suggested and Connor frowned and looked at him.

"What?"

Daryl put his hands in his pockets and shrugged awkwardly.

"Just sayin. It sure is a nice spot. And it's about time you let him go. This is your chance."

Connor pressed his lips together and looked away.

"I already said goodbye ta him on the farm."

Daryl shook his head as he still remembered that day all too clearly.

"You put _your_ gun on the ground. Ain't the same."

Connor wouldn't say anything to that, so his friend went on.

"Just listen to yourself, man. You won't stop talking about him. And you carry his guns, his necklace, his knife, his picture.  
Wouldn't surprise me if some of your clothes are his. You gotta stop that shit."

"It's all I got left of him" the Irishman muttered and gave his friend an angry glare, and it was obvious that he didn't want to let go.

Connor shook his head and then looked away again. Daryl used this opportunity to head for the shovel which was still stuck in the ground right next to one of the graves. Once he got it he made his way back to Connor and offered it to him. It took the Irishman a while, and he just stared at the tool and wouldn't take it just yet. He knew that Daryl was right, that this whole thing needed to stop, but it was incredibly hard for him. He eventually took the shovel and Daryl nudged his chest.

"I'll go get another bunch of panels."

And as Daryl walked away Connor just felt the weight of the shovel in his hands and stared at the ground. He knew that he didn't need to dig too deep. No body would have to be put in there, considering that his brother's body had long since disappeared. He could no longer hide the tears that had tried to flow ever since Daryl had mentioned the fact that he needed to let go of Murphy's things, and even after all these months it still hurt so much that he could hardly breathe. He didn't want to let go, he still didn't want to believe that his twin was gone. Dead. Nothing but a memory and dust.

_If we ever die, I want 'em to bury us right fuckin here. Side by side. Not in some shithole in Boston. No. Right fuckin here on this hill._

He still remembered that conversation on their hill as if it had just happened yesterday.

Daryl was right, this was a good spot to let go, it was just like Murphy had wanted. Only that it wasn't like this at all. Because Murphy _had_ died in some shithole in Boston. Because his brother's corpse was still lying there, in this building, in this apartment, this room. Because they would never be side by side. It wasn't fair, and how this was supposed to make him feel better was beyond him.  
  
Connor still started digging, and with every inch he buried the shovel deeper in the ground he had to think about everything. He remembered his twin's screams. The running running running. The cursing, the crying, the begging, the blood, the bullet. He had thought that he had gotten better ever since the farm, but truth was that he was far from okay. The bite had made it worse. The immunity had made his survivor's guilt even stronger. He still thought it was unfair how he could survive a bite whereas his brother had died, he still didn't get the logic behind that. He dug and dug and with every movement he thought the same thing.

 _I don't want to let go. I don't want to let go. I don't want to let go._  
 _He's still with me._  
 _I can't be on my own._  
 _I need him with me_.  
 _Dead or alive._  
 _I don't care._

He kept digging and digging and let go of his anger until Daryl came back with another self-made cross, and the closer he came the angrier Connor got.

_I promise 'm gonna come back. When all this is sorted out then 'm gonna come back. 'm gonna take ye back t'Ireland, back t'Ma, and we're gonna give ye a proper grave on our hill. With a cross and flowers and all that shit. 'm gonna dig it and build it m'self, I promise._

He was such a fucking liar. He knew that he would never get back to Boston. He knew that he would never get back to Ireland. Back to their mother. Because everyone he once knew and loved was dead. His entire family was dead. And the miserable hole he had just dug wouldn't make it any better. Daryl was about to put the cross in the ground, but Connor stopped him because he wanted to do it himself.  
  
He pushed the cross into the ground and then adjusted it, and as soon as he was done with it both men took a step back to look at the now empty grave. Connor grabbed all the things he had. The guns, the knife, the picture, the rosary. And just like that he felt incredibly naked, and terribly, terribly alone. He felt a big lump in his throat and swallowed hard.

"Want me to go?" Daryl asked but the Irishman shook his head. He wouldn't look at his friend, he was just staring at the hole.

"Don't ye get tired of digging so many graves all the time?" he muttered after a while and Daryl shifted.

"I'm just glad I ain't standing in front of yours now" the hunter murmured and Connor turned his head to look at him.

"Gave me a heart attack when those dead pricks were all over yah in that corridor."

Connor just nodded and looked at the grave again.  
He clung to the things in his hands as if his life depended on it, and he even had to admit that he was shaking a bit.  
Both men just stood there for a while until the Irishman spoke out what he had thought right from the beginning.

"I can't fucking do it, man" he muttered and already wanted to walk away, but Daryl stepped in his way to stop him.

"Do it."

"I can't. Seriously" Connor said and shook his head.

"I said do it" Daryl repeated and placed a hand on his friend's chest to shove him towards the grave, and that was enough to make the blonde snap.

"I told ye that I cannot fucking do it, alright? You can't fucking force me!"

"Just bury something, man" the hunter demanded and tried not to get into a fight, although it was quite hard to do so.

He knew that this was very difficult for his friend, but he also knew that it needed to be done because he was sick of the Irishman's endless talk and mourning. Connor kept shaking his head and stared at the things in his hands, and that was enough to make Daryl snap.

"Bury something!" he yelled and finally lost his patience.

"You dug the hole, didn't you? Now put something in there and end it! I'm sick of this bullshit all the time!  
You told me he wanted to be buried on a hill, now stop being so selfish about it and do it!"

Connor just stared at his friend as if he wanted to punch him for that, hands clutching to his things and lips nothing but a pale thin line. He looked like a stubborn child and murderous lunatic at the same time, but Daryl wouldn't give in. He knew that if they didn't do this now Connor would never get out of this hole he was in ever since his brother had died, so this was their only way.

The Irishman finally turned around and headed for the grave, and after staring at the things in his arms for a good five minutes he grabbed the Murphy's bowie-knife and dropped it. The weapon flew inside the hole and Connor stared at it, then he dropped the next thing, the picture. He put the guns in his holsters again and looked at Daryl.

"Can't put those away. We need 'em."

The hunter nodded reluctantly. He knew that the Irishman was right, but he still didn't like it.

Connor went for the cross next and took his brother's rosary, and after staring at it and stroking the beads he wrapped it around the cross Daryl had brought with him. He knelt down next to it and wouldn't let go of the rosary just yet, and now that Daryl had calmed down a bit he stepped closer.

"He got the knife right before our first hit. I always called him a fuckin Rambo wannabe because of that" Connor suddenly started talking and chuckled sadly.

"He always thought that knives were useful, I thought that ropes were useful. He was Rambo, I was Bronson. We spent fucking years bickering over that one" he went on as he looked down the hole he had dug. He then looked back at the rosary and stroke the wooden cross.

"And this one..our Da made those fer us. Just before he left us. Our Ma kept them in a box on te top shelf in the kitchen. She officially gave them to us on our 16th birthday, but Murph and I found it years before that. I think we were six or seven. Snooping around in the kitchen, looking fer something to eat when this box fell in my hands. We saw the initials and knew they were fer us."

Daryl just stood there and listened, and it took his friend a moment to keep going.

"Our Da left us when we were three. Didn't get ta meet him til we were 27."

He suddenly chuckled and shook his head.

"And all those fucking years Murph kept asking Ma, kept asking me. 'Where is Da, Connor? Where is he?'. As if I knew te fucking answer. And sometimes I think, as soon as he stepped out tha door and left us, 't was almost like he made me the new man in the house, like Murph picked up on tha. I remember te first time we put those rosaries around our necks. It's like we was so close ta him, y'know?"

Connor raised his head and looked at Daryl for a while.

"I remember te look on his face when we first wore it. He was so fucking happy. He never wanted ta take it off.  
He always wanted to be close to our Da. We both wanted that."

He sighed and turned his head to look at the rosary again.

"'s why we came ta America. We knew he was here."

There was silence for a while and the blonde let go of it.

"Murph loved this rosary."

He stared at it a little longer and swallowed hard.

"Y'know. I take that offer now. Can ye please leave me alone fer a bit? I wanna pray fer them. Both of them" he pleaded but wouldn't look at Daryl.

The hunter didn't like the idea of his friend being alone out here, but he supposed it was his right to mourn and say goodbye in private.  
He nodded and turned around to head for the prison.

"I'm inside if yah need me."

"Aye. Thanks."

And as the younger of the two walked away he could hear the prayer again.

"And shepherds we shall be..."

* * *

They were all having breakfast before their big search for Carol and the remaining free walkers. No one would say anything and everyone seemed upset, especially Connor and Carl. The Irishman was sitting by the table next to Rick's son, who was staring at his food but wouldn't eat. The boy was still very upset because of his mother's death, and although Connor was upset himself after the thing with the grave he still tried to cheer the boy up with stories and silly voices.  
  
Maggie, Glenn, Herschel and Beth, who was holding the baby, were sitting around the table as well and listened to the Irishman, but no matter how hard the blonde tried, no one was really truly happy and they all could hardly smile, no matter how funny some of Connor's story's really were. Daryl sat on the stairs on the other side of the room and just watched them. He was worried about the group and Rick as well, and right now his friend's talk wasn't exactly helping, it just annoyed him. He knew that Carl didn't need this sort of talk right now, because he was familiar with the feeling of losing your mother from one second to the next.

"Everybody okay?" they heard Rick ask and turned their heads in surprise.

Their leader was standing by the door and looked at them. He wore different clothes and his face was cleaner than when he had left them yesterday.

"Yeah, we are" Beth answered and the whole group just watched how Rick entered the hall. The policeman nodded and looked at all of them, until he fixed his eyes on Connor. Both men just looked at each other for a while. The Irishman felt like he was being judged although he knew that Rick probably didn't blame him but Maggie, but he still felt guilty because of the whole thing. He chewed slowly and swallowed the food after a second, and when he was just about to say something, apologize, Herschel spoke up.

"What about you?" he asked and Rick stopped looking at Connor.

"I cleared out the boiler block" he answered and then turned his head to look at his son.

Daryl watched the whole scenario with a worried look on his face, and when he saw how his friend tried to talk he spoke up instead.

"How many were there?" he asked and Connor turned his head to look at him with an angry frown.

Daryl ignored his friend and just looked at Rick.

"I don't know. A dozen, two dozen... I have to get back. Just wanted to check on Carl" the policeman answered and patted his son's shoulder without really looking at him. Connor looked at the boy with a frown, saw how upset he was, and it just made him angry how Rick could call this sort of back patting "checking on his son". The Irishman sighed and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You okay?" he muttered and Carl nodded. He still wouldn't look at his father.

Rick turned around and headed for the exit again, but Glenn got up and called after him.

"Rick, we can handle taking out the bodies. You don't have to" he offered, but Rick shook his head.

"No, I do" he growled and approached Daryl.

"Everyone have a gun and a knife?"

The hunter nodded.

"Yeah. We're running low on ammo, though."

"Maggie and me were planning on making a run this afternoon" Glenn joined in and Daryl nodded once more.

"Yeah. Me 'n Connor, too. As soon as we're done looking for Carol. We already cleared out the generator room. Axel's there trying to fix it.  
In case of emergencies. We're gonna sweep the lower levels next."

"And we found a phone book with some places we can hit, look for bullets and formula" Glenn went on.

Rick nodded absently.

"Good. Good" he murmured and headed for the exit again.

"Rick!" Herschel called after him, but their leader kept going.  
  
It was silent for a while, and Connor just watched how Carl wouldn't eat and kept staring at nothing.


	27. Survivor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 6 " _Hounded_ "

They were checking the cell block in which they had found T-Dog's body and Carol's scarf just the day before. Connor supposed that she was dead as well, but he knew how much the woman meant to his friend so he kept following them and tried to help wherever he could. They had been killing walkers all morning, now that Axel had managed to get the generators to work again and now that there was light it was way easier for them than last time.  
  
The corridors still sent a shiver down the Irishman's spine. He couldn't stop thinking about the attack from yesterday, the fight, the walkers on top of him, his dream about Murphy. He instantly grabbed the back pocket of his jeans and looked at Daryl, who was walking in front of him. He had not told his friend about the picture yet, and he didn't want him to know that he had taken it out of the grave. He still couldn't bring himself to let go of his brother just yet, and he needed his picture to remember him the way he wanted to.  
  
He had only buried the knife and put the rosary on top of the cross, knowing that he could get it back whenever he wanted. The hunter had given him a new knife, but it still felt wrong, he still felt naked without Murphy's. In the end it had been the object he could let go of, no matter how much it still hurt. He had also given some of Murphy's clothes to Axel, although that still made him furious. He was sure that his brother would kill him if he knew that a former convict was now wearing his clothes, but Axel was a good guy and needed something, considering that he had lost everything to this strange apocalypse.

Oscar, the other survivor from the prisoner group wasn't too bad either, as he had saved Rick from Andrew and was now helping them with all the walkers. So that was a big bonus as well. They had just made their way around a corner when the prisoner noticed another moving steel door.

"Check it out, man" he said and pointed at it.

Connor was on his way to check for walkers when Daryl placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back without looking at him.  
The Irishman huffed and wanted to protest, but his friend was already standing in front of the door and started it shaking it gently.

"Must have missed them last night" the third man of the group muttered and Daryl just looked at the door. Connor snorted.

"Probably got scared and hid in a closet when they saw 'im go crazy with the axe."

Daryl turned around and glared at his friend. He nodded at Carl, who was standing right behind them.  
Connor bit his lip and looked at Rick's son again.

"Sorry. I just meant..cos yer Da's a real badass, aye?"

Carl just nodded gently, but the usual smirk and appreciation wouldn't come this time.

"It's probably just one or two of 'em. Don't look they got much fight" Daryl said and tried to change the subject, but not without giving Connor a disapproving head shake.

He started walking again and his friend followed him with a growl.

"What. I was just trying t'cheer us up a bit.." he muttered, but Daryl ignored him.

And truth be told, he didn't feel to cheery either. He was still upset because of the grave thing with Murphy's stuff.  
And he still had a throbbing headache from yesterday. He watched his friend leave and headed for the next bunch of doors.

"They ain't going nowhere. We'll take care of it on the way back" Daryl muttered and Connor shrugged.

He didn't really want to fight today, so he kept walking as well.

The hunter approached Carl, who was still standing in a corner and looked down with a blank look on his face.  
Daryl whistled once and the kid startled.

"Come on" he demanded and Carl followed him.

Connor just watched the two of them, and he understood what his friend wanted. He had tried to cheer Carl up all morning but without any luck, so he hoped that Daryl could be of more use today. He had already helped the Irishman a lot, so maybe this was his day to work some wonders. The Irishman stayed behind them and checked the cells with Oscar, but at the same time he tried to keep up with the other two so he could hear what Daryl and Carl were talking about. Connor approached the prisoner after a while and lit a smoke.

"Ye know, never thought I'd ever work with a criminal. Time's changed, aye?" he muttered and tried to make conversation with the man.

Oscar frowned and eyed the Irishman head to toe.

"Aren't you the guy Andrew knew from the news?"

The blonde smirked and blew out some smoke.

"Guilty."

"Didn't he say you broke outta prison yourself?"

"Aye."

The prisoner snorted.

"Then why am I the only criminal then? Make it sound like it's a bad thing. You ain't no different from me."

Connor chuckled but wouldn't say anything to that, now that he noticed that Carl and Daryl were further up front to a point where he could no longer hear what they were talking about. He walked a bit faster because he wanted to know how his friend was going to handle the whole Carl issue, now that he obviously didn't like his version of dealing with depressing things. The hunter pointed his flashlight at all sorts of dark corners and wouldn't look at Carl, but he still started talking.

"You know, my mom, she liked her wine. She liked to smoke in bed. Virginia Slims."

Connor snorted behind him. Daryl turned around and glared at him.

"Got a problem, asshole?"

The Irishman smirked and shook his head.

"No, everything's fine, officer" he answered and blew some smoke in Daryl's face. The hunter narrowed his eyes but decided not to start fighting.  
He turned around and checked more cells for walkers. After a minute or two he started talking again and Carl followed him.

"I was playing out with the kids in the neighborhood. I could do that with Merle gone."

The Irishman listened up. Daryl never really spoken about his brother, and even after over 6 months of being together he hardly knew anything about his friend's past or family. He had practically told the hunter every last detail about his life by now, simply because he could never stop talking and because he loved to tell stories, but Daryl had never been like that at all.

"They had bikes, I didn't. We heard sirens gettin louder. They jumped on their bikes, ran after it. You know, hopin t'see something worth seeing.  
I ran after them, but I couldn't keep up."

Connor kept following them and didn't even need to try hard to imagine what the whole scenario would have looked like. He imagined younger Daryl to look just like Murphy when they had been little. Of course he would have looked like his brother when they had been younger, the hunter was practically a perfect copy of his twin. And just thinking about how little Daryl would run after guys on bikes, but all on his own, made his heart ache.   
  
Murphy never would have been in that sort of situation, simply because he always would have been there to protect him. They had never been that rich either, which was why he and his brother had had to share a bike. If they had ever been in a situation like that then little Murphy would have been on a bike to follow them as well, and if he had been Daryl's brother then the hunter would have been able to ride a bike, too.   
  
Sometimes he hated how his brother instincts kicked in so violently, because the first thing he had imagined was how he would have beat the shit out of all the kids who didn't help Daryl, didn't include him and left him all alone without sharing a bike. He sighed and looked away. Oh how he hated that he wasn't a big brother anymore, how he didn't have the privilege of protecting his younger half, because there was no such thing anymore and because Daryl would never let him do that sort of thing. He was pretty sure that even little Daryl wouldn't have wanted anyone to help him.

"I ran around a corner and saw my friends looking at me. Hell, I saw everybody looking at me. Fire trucks everywhere. People from the neighborhood.  
It was my house they were there for. That was my mom in bed. Burnt down to nothing."

Hearing Daryl's story made Connor feel both sad and uneasy. It made him upset to know that his friend's childhood and life had been one giant pile of shit, that a man who had his brother's face could live such a different life than his twin. Although they had always been poor Murphy had never suffered, never been sad, he had always been happy. That day when they had chained him to a toilet and almost killed his younger half had been the first time they had ever got to learn how cruel the world really could be, but in the end that was nothing compared to Daryl's life.  
  
It also made him feel uneasy because he had to think of his own mother, what a chain smoker she had been. Sometimes she had smoked cigarettes in bed, too, and sometimes she had fallen asleep while doing so as well, simply because she had been too drunk or whatever. The same story could have happened to him and his brother any day, and they both could've been orphans from one day to the next. He thanked god that they never had to lose their mother like that, but at the same time it also made it worse because this way they would never ever get to know how their mother had died, where she had died, if she had died...

"That was the hard part" Daryl went on and snapped the Irishman out of it.

"You know, she was just gone. Erased. Nothing left of her. People said it was better that way."

Connor snorted gently and shook his head.

"Yeah, I don't think so" he muttered but neither Carl nor Daryl heard him.

It didn't matter though, because he had been talking about his own mother anyway. Every once in a while he had to think about her, how many years had passed since they had last seen that crazy woman. At some day their phone calls had stopped, simply because it had been impossible to do this sort of thing ever since the police had been after them.  
  
They had tried to write her letters at first, especially when they had been in Ireland. He remembered how furious and upset she had been when she had discovered that her sons had ended up in the same prison as their father, and for a couple of weeks there had been no contact at all. A few weeks later the dead had started walking. This was the worst part. They never got to apologize and explain their mission, and he never got to tell his own mother that one of her sons was dead.   
  
Maybe this was a good thing, he thought, because he was pretty sure she would have killed him for losing Murphy. He sighed and shook his head. He hated today. His head hurt, he was pissed, he was depressed, and Daryl's story made it worse. Now he had to think about his past, his mistakes, everything he had lost and he wanted it to stop.

"I don't know. Just made it seem like it wasn't real, you know?"

"I shot my mom. She was out. Hadn't turned yet. I ended it. It was real" Carl spoke up then and they all stopped.

Daryl just looked at the boy, and it was Connor who put a hand on the boys shoulder and started walking again.

"You did the right thing, Carl. That was very brave. You did the thing that even I couldn't do" he muttered and walked past them because he didn't want to look at anyone and because he was fed up with this conversation.

He was honest about the whole thing. He admired the boy for his strength, his willpower to keep going and shoot his mother. Of course, it was a horrible thing to do and no child should ever have to do that, but at least he had spared Lori all the suffering that accompanied the turning and walking around as a dead person. This was the one part he would never forgive himself, apart from the fact that he had failed to protect his brother.  
  
What made it unforgivable was the fact that he had failed to save his brother from this, that he had let him turn into a walker. How he had just watched how his twin brother had turned into a monster before shooting him, freeing him. Funny that. Daryl had told him that he would feel better after getting rid of some of his brother's stuff. But this was quite the opposite. He felt like shit.

"Sorry about your mom" he heard Carl say to Daryl and checked another bunch of cells to keep his mind off things, so he could stop thinking about his dead family. It just depressed the hell out of him.

"I'm sorry about yours" Daryl answered and when Connor turned around he could see how the hunter placed a hand on the kid's shoulder.

Once again he was surprised how much Daryl had changed, how his friend was able to be so gentle and caring about kids. He watched how the hunter placed a hand on Carl's back and nudged him with a gentle "Come on." Now he understood why his friend had been annoyed by his attempts to cheer Carl up. All of his jokes and silly voices and stories didn't seem to work anymore. The boy had never needed that sort of thing, what he had needed was some sort of honest comfort, coming from someone who didn't treat him like a child.

The Irishman couldn't help but smile then. Because he and Daryl were so different, and yet they really worked as a team. When someone failed to do something right because of his lack of experience and abilities then the other would always be there, and that was a beautiful and useful thing to be part of. It made him incredibly proud. He and Murphy had been like that, although they hadn't been so _extremely_ different.  
  
In the end they had always been twins, always been brothers, so they had been different and yet the same. Now that Daryl really wasn't his brother and they really were _entirely_ different it was both something incredibly refreshing and new, but also something he was very familiar with.

"Oh! That's what I'm talking about!" Oscar exclaimed and they all turned around to see what was going on.

The prisoner disappeared inside a cell.  
Both Connor and Daryl looked at each other with a frown, and when the latter nodded both men and Carl went after their other member of the group.

"What did ye find, Ozzy? Walker?" Connor shouted and Daryl hushed him angrily.

When they finally entered the room they could see the prisoner kneel down to get some shoes.

"Yeah, buddy!" he cheered and the other two men frowned.

"What the hell you need slippers for?" Daryl muttered and Connor started chuckling.

Oscar looked at them.

"You know. End of the day? Relaxing."

The hunter looked at the man with a frown and the Irishman chuckled even more.

"What else can we get ye, grandma? Pink bathrobe? Hair rollers? Bathing cap?"

Oscar got back up and frowned.

"Shut up, man. You don't know nothing. Y'all gonna be lining up for these things by the end of the day."

They all froze when they heard a loud growl behind them. In just a matter of seconds the whole group turned around and drew their weapons to shoot the walker behind them. Everyone kept pulling the trigger a couple of times until the undead fell to the ground. The whole group was out of breath for a second and they looked at each other. Connor got out of the cell, slowly and carefully, to have a look at the walker.

"D'ye think he's dead?" he muttered and turned his head to look at the others.

He tried to stay serious but then he just had to laugh.  
Or maybe he forced himself to laugh, because he was getting sick of all the pathetic and depressed bullshit.

Even Daryl had to smile and took a deep breath.

"Alright" he muttered and pointed his flashlight at the dead body to take a closer look at it.

"Must have been in the cell at the end" Oscar observed and Daryl knelt down next to it.

"We checked everywhere else" the prisoner went on and Connor looked at him.

"Well, not everywhere, there's another corner over there and I think.."

"That's Carol's knife" they heard Daryl say and stopped talking.

The hunter was kneeling next to the dead body of the walker with a small knife in his hands.  
He wiped it on the undead's uniform and just looked at it.  
For a while no one would say anything until Connor shifted a bit.

"So she was definitively here" he muttered but Daryl wouldn't answer.

The Irishman bit his lip and put his hands on his hips.

"Well, we didn't find her body in here. Maybe she got out. We gotta keep looking fer another door.   
Maybe..I dunno, maybe she got out and went back t'our cell block. Maybe she's there now and.."

"She ain't got no weapon on her, dumbass. How do you think she got past all the walkers" the hunter interrupted him and Connor looked at the knife in his friend's hand.

"Maybe she..."

Daryl got up but wouldn't look at them. Because he knew what it meant. Carol didn't have any weapon, nothing to protect herself from walkers. And yesterday the block had been full of walkers. She just had to be dead. Just this morning he had been full of hope when he had found the Cherokee rose. He had thought it was a sign of hope, that he was going to find her.   
  
That after failing to bring Sophia back he would get the chance to save her life at least. But then he remembered what happened last time he had found a rose like that. Just an hour later they had found the girl. Dead. And now Carol's knife. He just knew that they were going to find her dead as well, that once again he had _failed_.

"How 'bout you three head back. 'm gonna check the corridor once more just to be thorough" he growled and started walking.

Oscar, Connor and Carl looked at each other. The Irishman gave the other two a silent nod and they started walking. The blonde nudged the prisoner when he passed him and made gestures towards his eyes and Carl, making it clear that Oscar was supposed to look after the boy. The other man nodded and nudged Rick's son to get him to move. Carl looked at Connor for a second, and the Irishman gave him a reassuring nod.   
  
As soon as he had made sure that they were gone the blonde went after his friend, who had disappeared around a corner by now. It didn't take the Irishman long and he could see Daryl, who was sitting on the ground and kept stabbing it with Carol's knife. The flashlight lay on the ground next to him, with its light still turned on. The blonde sighed and approached his friend.

"I thought we was gonna check the corridors?" he murmured quietly and kept walking until he was standing in front of him.

Daryl looked up for a second, then he resumed stabbing the ground again and looked down.

"I said you _three_ head back."

Connor sighed and checked the corridor to their left and right. There was nothing but a couple of dead bodies on the ground.

"Ye know the rules. No running off on our own. Ye saw what happened t'me when I did that."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah. Cos you're a brainless fucking idiot."

Connor still looked at him. With every second he stood there Daryl stabbed the ground more aggressively.  
They could still hear the creaking of the door to their left.

"We should take care of that walker" the Irishman muttered after a while and his friend growled.

"'m gonna do it. Just fuck off."

"Come on, ye can't seriously expect me t'.."

Daryl stabbed the ground hard again and looked up to give his friend a death glare.

"I said fuck off."

Connor sighed and rubbed his aching head.

"Listen, I know that Carol mattered t'ye. And it's real fucking sad she's gone but ye seriously gotta focus now..."

The Irishman's talk and the continuous banging of the door drove Daryl insane and made him more and more furious.  
He stabbed the ground once more and got up with an angry grunt. Connor watched him and moved out of his way, but he kept talking.

"I'm sorry, really. She was a sweet lady, but ye can't search the whole fucking thing on yer own and think..."

"I said fuck off! Don't you get it!" Daryl suddenly yelled because he had enough.

He shoved his friend back against the wall and struck out to bury Carol's knife right next to his head, just a couple of millimeters away from his neck. Connor widened his eyes in surprise and turned his head away, and for a second he really thought that Daryl had stabbed him. The hunter was just as surprised. He hadn't meant to explode like that, to get so violent and dangerous all over again. For a second they just stood there like that and looked at each other. Connor's chest was heaving because of the sudden shock. Daryl was holding on to the knife that was stuck in the wall next to Connor's head and pressed his other forearm to his throat, his face nothing but a terrifying angry grimace.

"We really back t'this shit now? You lose Sophia y'try to fucking choke me, you lose Carol you try t'fucking stab me? _Really_?" Connor asked and stared at his friend in disbelief.

Daryl narrowed his eyes and let go.

"Just go" he growled and started pacing up and down the corridor, but once again Connor wouldn't move an inch.

He placed a hand on his neck to make sure everything was okay. The knife had been very close to his neck tattoo, but he wasn't bleeding, there was no scratch on him in fact, which was definitively an improvement compared to last time Daryl had attacked him like that. He watched how the hunter kept walking up and down like a nervous dog, and he knew that his friend was close to having another violent breakdown. When Daryl passed the shaking door once more he suddenly stopped and started kicking it hard. Connor had enough and approached him then.

"Just calm down now, alright?" he said and his friend looked at him for a second, then he pressed his lips together and knelt down to move the body away from the door so he could open it. He just wanted everybody and everything to shut up, and now that he had made Connor shut up he just needed to stop the door from shaking. When he grabbed his knife the Irishman took his as well and tried to help him, but Daryl shoved him away and ripped the door open. He was just about to stab the walker that kept moving it when he froze abruptly. He could see a dirty and bloody figure sitting there on the ground, and when she moved her head to look up at him he let go off his knife in shock. He knelt down and grabbed her chin.

"What is it?!" he heard Connor yell, but for a second he didn't know how to talk.

He looked at her, how weak and powerless she was, and when she gave him a faint smile he could finally talk again.

He looked out of the cell and stared at his friend in utter surprise.

"It's Carol!"


	28. Red Riding Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 7 " _When The Dead Come Knocking_ "

When they returned to their cell block they found it empty. They had no idea where Carl, Oscar, Beth, Herschel and the baby were, but they assumed that they were outside. Daryl carried Carol to her cell whereas Connor opened all the doors for them and made sure that there were no walkers anywhere. The hunter placed the unconscious woman on her bed and for a second both men just looked at her.

"Wow, I gotta be honest, I didn't think she was gonna make it" Connor muttered and Daryl snorted.

"Well I didn't think so" he grunted and knelt down to have a closer look at Carol, to check for any bites or injuries.  
Connor just watched him for a while.

"Looks like yer flower worked this time" he muttered and Daryl tried to get her to drink something from the water bottle they had brought.  
Carol still wasn't really there, but she was alive and that was all that mattered.

"Yeah, I knew she was gonna make it. I could feel it. She's tougher than she looks. We all are."

"Didn't sound too optimistic just a sec ago when you nearly fucking stabbed me" Connor retorted and Daryl turned his head to look at his friend for a while.

Of course, he regretted his outburst now, but how Connor could be like that even after they had found Carol alive was beyond him.

"I didn't mean to stab you, alright? Don't tell me you didn't do any shit when you were angry" he just muttered and looked at Carol again.

"She needs food and more water. Been in there for two days" he muttered and then got up to head for the cell in which they kept their supplies.

Connor just looked at Carol for a second, then he followed his friend to help him with the food.

Somehow the Irishman's remark still made Daryl angry. He hated himself for losing his shit all the time, especially whenever Connor was around. The past couple of days they had spent either fighting or being incredibly condependent, and he hated that. Considering that they had not been like this when it had been just the two of them. He let go of the food after a moment and got up to face his friend, who was getting some things from the upper bed.

"Look, 'm sorry about what happened during the last couple of days. Shit just hit the van and you know how I am when it's about Carol, and kids like Sophia. And sometimes you just annoy the crap outta me. I'm trying my best to keep my shit together, but sometimes you just gotta leave me alone when I ask you to. Cos I do when you ask me. You asshole matter to me, and I didn't save your sorry ass and spent the last couple of months with you for nothing. So if we wanna make this shit work then you gotta fucking start accepting my rules and I don't need t'stab you. Alright?"

Connor just looked at him for a while, then he nudged his shoulder with a gentle chuckle.

"It's alright. I was just shitting you. I think we both know that yer not really fighting me but yer massive crush on me."

Daryl frowned angrily and shook him off.

"What? Are yah insane?"

Connor grinned and turned around again to get some food.

"Come on, don't think I didn't see all the looks yer giving me. And don't think I didn't hear what ye said t'me when you thought I was dead.  
You got a serious crush on me, ye can admit it, Darylena."

"Yeah, dream on."

Connor chuckled even more and watched his friend sort some of the supplies.

"And hey."

Daryl turned around to look at him.

"Thanks fer what you did. Y'know. This morning. Couldn't have done this shit without you to be honest."

Daryl just looked at Connor, and after a while a slight smirk broke through.

"Well, you need someone to kick your ass."

Connor grinned and was about to say something to that, but Daryl walked past him and was faster.

"Hence the stab today."

"Oh fuck you."

* * *

Carol woke up again after a while, and they gave her water and food to give her some strength. Both Daryl and Connor knew that they still needed Herschel to check on her, which was why the Irishman decided to look for the old man. He was on his way to the hall when he could hear how the doors to the building were opened.

"Carl, get a blanket. Beth, water and a towel" he heard Rick say and started running to see what was going on.

When he entered the hall he could see the policeman, his son, Herschel and his daughter and how they made their way down the stairs to the tables.  
What surprised him even more than the fact that Rick was back again was the sight of a half-conscious woman he was caring.

"What the...Who the fuck is this?" the Irishman asked and pointed at her when their leader lay her on the ground.  
He could see how Beth was struggling to hold the little baby and help the woman, so he approached Herschel's daughter and reached out.

"Give her here, 'n go and help yer Da and Rick with the other one" he muttered and Beth looked at him in surprise, but when her father nodded she gave the Irishman the newborn. The little girl was still sleeping, and although the whole situation was pretty chaotic at the moment he still had to smile when he got to hold her. Connor approached Rick, who was pouring some water over the unconscious woman.

"Rick, who's this? Where did ye get her from all of a sudden? Was she in one of those other cell blocks?"

Their leader shook his head and tried to wake her up with gentle pats to her cheek.

"No, she turned up by the fences, caring baby formula and supplies. She's not coming in the cell blocks" he answered and put her weapon, a white katana, on the ground.

"Woah, what te fuck, is that a katana?"

The woman suddenly startled awake and looked at them in surprise. As soon as Beth was done with the whole running around and getting things she approached the Irishman again to get the baby back, and Connor used the opportunity to get closer to their new arrival.

"A woman who turns up with the shit we need? Right on our doorstep? With a fucking samurai sword? What te hell?"

He turned his head and looked at Herschel and Beth with a frown.

"Didn't Maggie and Glenn say that they wanted to go 'n look fer that stuff?"

The old man looked at the small basket with the supplies and nodded, now seemingly worried now.

"Hey hey hey! Look at me! Look at me" they heard Rick say and turned their heads again to see what was going on.

The woman was now wide awake and looked at all of them, until she fixed her eyes on Rick, who was kneeling next to her.

"Who are you?" he asked and she was still panting heavily. After a couple of seconds she reached out for katana.

Connor was faster than her. He placed a foot on the weapon and dragged it away.

"Woah woah woah, now, easy there, woman. Just answer the question" he muttered and knelt down to get her sword.

He had only been close to this sort of weapon once, and he was sure that if his brother was here then he would have a field day. He took it and pulled it out of its sheath, just a couple of inches of course, to take a look at it. The blade was incredibly sharp, so he nodded with a grin on his face and whistled approvingly.

"Holy shit. Where did you get this thing from? Fucking awesome that is."

The woman was fighting Rick's grip and glared at the Irishman, and the glint in her eyes was so intense and fierce that Connor put the katana back in, pretending that nothing had happened.

"Listen, we're not gonna hurt you, unless you try something stupid first, all right?" the policeman muttered and tried to calm the woman down.

"Rick?" they heard Daryl say behind them and turned around.

Daryl was entering the hall with a confused frown.

"Who the hell is this?"

Rick looked at her again.

"You wanna tell us your name?" he asked but didn't get an answer.

Daryl looked at Connor.

"Did you tell 'em?"

The Irishman shook his head.

"Obviously didn't get the chance yet."

"Tell me what?" Rick asked after staring at the woman for a while.

The longer she just looked back at them the more the whole group couldn't help but wonder if she could even understand them.

"Come on in here. You're gonna wanna see this" Daryl muttered then and Rick got up with a sigh.

"Go ahead. Carl, get the bag. Connor, keep the weapon, make sure it's safe and sound" he ordered and the Irishman nodded.

"Aye" he said but didn't follow them right away.

He approached the woman and looked at her. Connor asked her if she could understand them and what her name was in Spanish, French, Russian and even Italian, but she just looked at him, the expression on her face not changing at all. The Irishman snorted.

"Either she's dumb as a post or she's got a perfect poker face" he observed and turned around when he Rick called for him.

The whole group was on their way out of the hall, and after looking at the woman once more he decided to follow them.

Daryl raised an eyebrow when he came closer.

"What were yah prattling about?"

Connor hit his chest gently and walked past his friend, who followed him.

"That, my dear friend, is called multilingualism. Spanish, French, Russian, Italian. I know shit."

The hunter snorted and they both stopped walking when they noticed that Rick wasn't behind them.  
Their leader was still standing by the door and looked at the woman on the ground.

"The doors are all locked. You'll be safe here. And we can treat that" he informed her and pointed at her leg.

The woman looked around and sighed angrily.

"I didn't ask for your help" she muttered and Connor raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Wow. It's alive!"

"Doesn't matter. Can't let you leave" Rick told her and finally left the hall as well.

Connor closed the door behind their leader and looked at the injured woman on the ground for a second, wondering who she was and how she had found their prison. The Irishman sighed and moved away from the grille door to follow the rest of the group, and when he reached them he could see how the others greeted Carol. Daryl was leaning against the door frame, and when he saw Connor he couldn't hold back a proud smile. Because they had made it. He had made it. For a couple of minutes he had thought that he had lost both his friends in those dark corridors, but here they were, Connor and Carol, all safe and sound.

"Poor thing fought her way to a cell. Must have passed out. Dehydrated" he told the others and looked at Rick and Carol, who were hugging each other.

The Irishman smiled back at him and nodded approvingly, then he watched how she greeted Lori's baby for the very first time. The mood changed when Carol realized that Lori was dead, and much to their surprise not only she started crying, but also Rick. Connor had enough because it made him feel guilty again, so he walked away to leave them to their mourning and greeting the baby. He walked over to the stairs that led to the upper cells, and when he sat down and looked to the door to the hall he could see the injured woman there, how she watched them and clung to the door.

It made him frown, because he seriously didn't know what to think. Somehow this reminded him of the whole Randall scenario from almost a year ago. Last time Rick had brought an injured stranger to their group's hideout the whole thing had escalated, with Daryl torturing their "prisoner" and him almost shooting him in the head. He hated how they couldn't trust anyone anymore.  
  
Back in the old days it had been pretty much the same, but nowadays it was even worse. And this time the whole thing was way harder. The woman looked dangerous and strong, especially since she had been caring a katana. Her whole presence screamed survivor and fighter at him, and he did not like that. Not at all. Not because he didn't want women to be fighters, quite the opposite.

He just didn't like the idea of having a strong and independent stranger with them, especially when she was giving them all these hostile looks. Connor didn't want to imagine what could happen. He didn't want it to end with torture and them killing her just to make her shut up about their location, but Rick was right. They couldn't let her leave. They couldn't risk her telling others about them.  
  
Only god knew what kind of other people she knew, maybe even people like he and Daryl had come across just two days ago. But at the same time there was no way he would let anyone kill her, or even touch her, because there was one rule that still mattered to him, their father's rule, their family's rule. No women. No children. End of story.

He sighed and lit a cigarette, then he decided to take a closer look at her weapon again.

"What do yah think?" he heard Daryl say and looked up.

The hunter stood by the railing, with both his arms folded. He eyed the woman just as skeptically.   
Connor shrugged and moved his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know, man."

Both men just watched her for a while, then Daryl pointed at the katana in Connor's hands.

"That hers?"

The Irishman nodded and put his cigarette back in his mouth.

"Aye. Pretty much trumps yer crossbow on the coolness scale now."

The hunter chuckled.

"Shut up."

Connor sighed.

"I don't know. Whole thing's pretty fucking weird. I mean when I look at her I see a woman who can take care af herself and who doesn't take shit from anyone. She's like you, but with tits."

Daryl snorted louder than intended.

"Bullshit."

Connor grinned at him.

"Are ye jealous?"

Daryl smirked back.

"Maybe you just got a serious crush on her."

The Irishman started laughing.

"Why, cos she's you but with tits?"

The hunter kicked him hard.

"Shut up and concentrate" he demanded and his friend chuckled. He blew out some smoke and looked at her again.

"No, but the shit I don't get: Why would she come here? With formula. Why would she know about a baby being here?  
And why would she bring it to us. Sounds a bit too much Little Red Riding Hood if ye ask me."

Daryl frowned.

"Little Red what?"

Connor turned his head and looked at him in disbelief.

"Ye don't know Little Red Riding Hood."

"No?"

"You know shit about roses and Native Americans, but ye don't know Little Red Riding Hood."

The hunter growled and nudged him angrily.

"It's cos I ain't from the end of the rainbow. Get to the point."

"It's a fairy tale. Ma taught us German with that. Anyway, there's this little chick with a red cape or some shit like that, and she's also carrying a small basket with food. I don't really know how the story goes anymore, but I remember that people get eaten and the whole story ends real fucking bloody."

Daryl snorted.

"Well ain't your mother lovely to tell you stuff like that."

"Shut it. I just mean that we should be careful. God knows what she did to Maggie and Glenn.  
Can't be some coincidence that she turns up with the stuff our people went looking for."

Daryl looked up when he saw how the others got out of Carol's cell and headed for the hall again.

The hunter nudged his friend and started walking as well.

"Better find out then, come on" he demanded, and Connor put his cigarette out to get up as well.

* * *

When they got back to the hall they found the woman sitting on one of their chairs.

"We can tend that wound for you. Give you a little food and water and then send you on your way" Rick told her and Connor looked at him with a frown.

He didn't know what their leader was on about.  
Just a second ago he had said that they couldn't let her leave, and even he knew that they couldn't let her leave like that.

"But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us, and why you were carrying formula" Rick went on and Connor looked at Daryl, but his friend was looking at the woman through narrowed eyes. She just looked at Rick, obviously not feeling intimidated at all.

"The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy with a pretty girl" she told them and Connor frowned.

"Glenn and Maggie?" he asked and then looked at Herschel, who looked even more worried.

"Didn't catch their names" the woman growled and glared at him.

"What happened?" Rick went on and she looked at him again.

"Were they attacked?" Herschel asked in horror and tried to approach her, but Connor walked over to him to hold him back and steady.

"Easy there old man, we got it under control" he tried to calm him down and looked at the others.

"They were taken" she went on and Maggie's father widened his eyes.

"Taken? By who?" Rick asked and leaned down to look her in the eye.

"By the same son of a bitch who shot me."

Connor frowned.

"Who says yer telling the truth. What if ye tried t'knock them out with yer bigass sword and they shot you?"

She gave him a death glare.

"I'm telling the truth."

Rick approached her.

"You tell us what really happened. Now!" he demanded and suddenly grabbed her injured leg.

The woman startled and got up.

"Don't you ever touch me again!"

Connor reacted just as fast and darted forward to pull their leader back.

"Rick! She's injured, and a woman. Get a fucking hold of yerself" he demanded.

He had already seen it coming. This really was like the Randall incident all over again, only that this time it was Rick himself who decided to use pain as instrument to get to the truth. He got even more furious when Daryl drew his crossbow and pointed it at her.

"You better start talking. You're gonna have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound" his friend growled and Connor let go of Rick to lunge out at the crossbow.

"And yer gonna have a much bigger problem if you don't put this fucking thing down!" he spat and looked at the two members of his group.

"What the fuck is wrong with ye people?! Can't we just have a civilized conversation fer once? The chick is wounded and unarmed, and you asshole started this whole fight, not her!" he yelled and glared at Rick for a second, who just looked at him. Then the Irishman turned his head to look at Daryl.

"Now put the thing down."

The hunter narrowed his eyes and kept looking at her, then he lowered his weapon with a growl.  
Connor turned around to look at the woman, who just glared at him, maybe even more furious than Daryl.

"I don't need your help" she growled, but the Irishman shrugged.

"Oh wow, ye hurt my feelings. You really gave it t'me, last of the samurai. Welcome to fucking kindergarten here! Boys and girls, might as well start pulling each other's hair instead of having a civilized conversation. Well fuck you, all of you! This ain't about any of us in this room, it's about Glenn and Maggie, and we all know.." he growled and turned around to look at Rick and Daryl.

He pointed at the woman and got even more furious.

"..that we need this chick to help us find them! Now everybody get yer shit t'gether!"

Everyone fell quiet and Connor sighed.

"Well, thank you" he muttered and turned his head to look at her.

"Now, where are our people?"

She just looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"Go find them yourself."

Connor raised an eyebrow and just looked at her.

"Really" he said and snorted.

"Then tell me, why the fuck did ye come here? Bring us shit we need fer our kids, huh? Out of the goodness of yer heart?  
Just felt like giving out baskets and presents without saying a word like Santa Clause and disappear through the fucking chimney again?"

The woman looked at the other two men for a while, then he looked back at him.  
For a couple of minutes it looked like she wasn't going to say anything, and Connor shook his head.

"Alright. I give up. Leave it to officer friendly here" he said and was about to turn around to leave. Then the woman started talking.

"There's a town. Woodbury."

Connor stopped walking and turned around to look at her again.

"About 75 survivors" she went on and leaned against the table.

"I think they were taken there."

Rick frowned.

"A whole town?"

"It's run by this guy who calls himself the Governor. Pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type."

Connor snorted.

"What kinda stupid name is that. Sounds like straight from the porn shelf."

Daryl looked at his friend with a frown, then he looked back at the woman.

"He got muscle?" he asked and she nodded.

"Paramilitary wannabes. They have armed sentries on every wall."

Rick approached her with a frown.

"You know a way in?"

"The place is secure from walkers, but we could slip our way through."

"How'd you know how to get here?" Rick asked her.

"They mentioned a prison. Said which direction it was in, that it was a straight shot."

Daryl and Connor looked at each other, both chewing on their lips with a frown.  
They didn't like this new information, this new town. Not at all.

* * *

Whereas Herschel took care of the woman's injury and Carl kept watch the others all gathered around the stairs to discuss how they should handle the situation. Carol had placed herself right next to Connor. He was sitting on the stairs, completely lost in thoughts, his fist pressed to his closed mouth. Carol had the baby in her arms, and when the little bundle hiccupped again the Irishman turned his head to look at her with a smirk on his face. Carol was rocking the child gently.

"Well, at least she got some sorta Ma now" the Irishman noticed and took the girls tiny hand to shake it gently.

He needed something to distract himself from all the mess he had just witnessed, and the little baby girl was the perfect bringer of joy in that regard.

"Just imagine her growing up with us dudes" he muttered and chuckled.

Just thinking about the whole scenario made him both laugh and angry. He didn't like the idea of a guy like the new Rick raising something so innocent like her, especially after what he had seen him do to the woman. Carol smiled and looked at the baby as well.

"Lori wanted me to look after her. Should she ever..." she trailed off and sighed. Connor turned his head and looked at the others.

"Aye" he muttered but didn't feel like talking anymore.

Axel and Oscar, who had returned by now, joined the discussion, and the latter was the first to speak up.

"How do you know we can trust her?" he asked and looked at them.

The Irishman sighed.

"Well, it doesn't matter. Ye saw the basket and pretty much everything indicates that she really met them and saw how this dude took 'em.  
I think she told us the truth. Half of it at least. Think we made it pretty clear that she can't really fuck with us" he growled and looked at Daryl and Rick.

The policeman ignored him completely, but Daryl seemed to be a bit sorry at least.

Beth nodded and stepped forward.

"This is Maggie and Glenn. Why are we even debating?"

"We ain't. I'll go after them" Daryl spoke up and Connor nodded.

"Aye. Me, too."

Rick put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Well, this place sounds pretty secure. Connor, you're good with the walkers, but those are real people we are talking about.  
They're smarter than walkers. More dangerous. You can't go alone. Remember what happened last time you two went out there?  
We don't need you to get ambushed again."

Daryl sighed and Connor mumbled "Well, guess yer right there".

"I'll go with them" Beth offered and Axel stepped forward.

"Me, too."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, sure."

Connor rubbed the back of his head and smirked.

"Definitely would be interesting t'watch" he murmured and chuckled.

Oscar shifted then.

"Well, then I'm in."

Both Connor and Daryl fell quiet then. They were obviously alright with the idea of someone so strong and large being with them.  
Rick looked at the group for a while, then he shook his head.

"We can't take the whole group with us. We need someone to watch over the others. The baby, Carol. Herschel. Protect the prison from intruders if need be. Herschel, Carl, Carol and Beth will stay here, watch over Carl's little sister. Connor, you stay here and keep an eye on them. Daryl, Oscar, Axel, you come with me. Your chance to prove yourself" Rick said to the blonde prisoner and Connor got up.

"Woah, woah woah, Rick. You can't seriously take 'im with ye on a mission like that. What if there's walkers out there, surrounding ye like the herd back on the farm?You need me out there. And you need my gun power in case they start shooting at ye. Besides, there's no way yer splitting me and Daryl up. As much as I like yer kids, I ain't no fucking babysitter. I'm a fighter."

Daryl chewed on his lower lip and shifted a bit, then he looked at Rick.

"I think he's right. Ain't no way I'm relying on some nervous freak with a mustache I don't even know. "

"Hey! I just wanna help." Axel interrupted him and looked at Rick.

"You follow me?"

Daryl looked at the prisoner for a moment, then he looked at Rick again.

"We need people we know we can count on. I mean I get you wanna give this guy a chance t'prove himself like Oscar did, but ain't gotta be on a mission like this. Besides, he knows this prison better than Connor. In case people need to make run for it."

Their leader looked at them for a little bit longer, then he sighed and started walking.

"Alright. Connor, you come with us. Daryl, Oscar, let's go. Axel, you stay back. Help the others."

When he passed Carol he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Keep an eye on him" he muttered and headed for the door.

* * *

Daryl opened the trunk lit of their Hyundai to get their bags, supplies and weapons inside the car.  
Connor was standing right next to him, and together they checked everything once more.

"You got the flash bangs and tear gas. I got the rifles, ammo and pistols. Never know what you're gonna need."

The Irishman nodded and put the bags inside.

"Aye. Better go out with a bang than with a poof."

Daryl turned around to check where Rick was and raised an eyebrow when he saw how Carl was trying to carry a heavy bag to the car as well.  
The hunter took it with a snort and put it in the trunk.

"Hey, don't you worry about your old man. 'm gonna make sure he and the stupid leprechaun ain't gonna bash their heads in" he muttered and nudged the boy's shoulder.

Ever since they had decided to leave Rick's son had looked worried, and now that Connor was still a bit pissed he thought that it was his job to cheer the kid up a bit. Connor looked up when he heard his nickname and hit Daryl.

"Eh" he complained and Carl grinned.

The Irishman nudged the boy as well and smirked.

"Come on now. Look after yer sister. Yer the boss here now."

Carl nodded and turned around to search for his father.  
When the boy made his way back to the cell block Daryl could no longer hold back a remark on what had happened inside the prison just minutes ago.

"Seriously, though. What's all this about? First you go all " _I don't trust this chick_ " on me, then you stab us in the back?" the hunter muttered and sorted the supplies and weapons. Connor sighed and looked up to look where Rick was.

"I just didn't want us ta get into another Randall situation here."

Daryl snorted and looked at his friend with a frown.

"Randall situation? Chick sure is a whole lotta more dangerous with her bigass sword."

"Well aye. Let's get back t'her and torture the shit outta her, then. And while we're at it, might as well kill her cos she looks dangerous."

The younger of the two growled.

"Herschel fixed her leg. Didn't he. We saved her ass and let her in. Don't go all sissy on me again. I don't need this shit all the time."

Connor sighed and searched his own bag.

"Yeah, whatever."

They were quiet for a while, and Daryl watched how Connor put his leg holsters on and put his two guns in them.  
He sighed when he could feel the tension between them, that they were literally just about to fight again because of the woman and the way Rick and he had treated her.

"What do you think 'bout this whole Woodbury thing?" he murmured and tried to change the subject.

The Irishman shrugged and wrapped his jacket around his hips.

"75 survivors with guns and barricades sounds a bit out of our league t'be honest. Especially now that we heard what kinda fucked up people run around there. Could be old people's home all over again."

Daryl snorted and closed the hatchback.

"Only difference this time is that ain't no one gonna capture me. We go in there, get Glenn and Maggie and get the hell outta there again. As simple as that."

* * *

Connor, Daryl and the woman were sitting in the backseat. Rick was driving the car and Oscar sat on the passenger seat next to him, and now that the whole planning part was over it was quiet inside the vehicle. Although the Irishman was still a bit pissed he just wanted people to talk, especially now that everybody was so tense because of the strange woman. She was sitting between him and Daryl, and after looking at her from time to time the blonde decided to talk.

"So what's yer name then?" he asked.

The woman wouldn't look at him, and she wouldn't give him an answer.

The Irishman sighed and shifted a bit.

"Well, 'm Connor, that fuckface over there's Daryl, this is Oscar and Rick" he told her and the policeman eyed him in the rear view mirror.

The woman still wouldn't talk.

"Where are ye from then and how did ye survive this shit? Yer sure look tough fer a woman."

She turned her head and looked at him with a frown. Connor expected her to finally say something, but she just glared at him in a way that even made him feel uncomfortable.

"Well, I just mean..'s nice ta see strong and independent women with balls and shit. Sure is a nice thing. And af course.."

"Connor" Daryl growled and the Irishman looked at him with a frown.

"What?"

"Shut up" the hunter muttered with an annoyed look on his face.

"Oh fuck you. I was just trying t'break the ice."

Daryl didn't say anything and stared out of the window to his left.  
The older of the two watched his friend and the woman for a second, then he snorted and looked in the other direction.

"Well fuck me, she really is the female version of you" he muttered and looked out of the window.

After a couple of minutes of driving he looked at them again.

"Good lord, will ye two ever shut up?" he asked and both the woman and Daryl gave him a death glare.

Connor chuckled and turned his head again. He was just about to say something when the woman shifted.

"There. Pull over right there" she suddenly said to Rick and pointed at something in front of them.

Both Rick and Oscar tried to make out whatever she was pointing at, but nothing could be seen.  
The policeman still stopped the car by the side of the road.

"They have patrols. We're better off on foot" she informed them and Rick opened the door with a nod.

Everybody got out of the car to have a look around and Connor frowned.

"Welcome to the middle of fucking nowhere" he muttered and eyed the tree lines to their left and right.

There was only one female walker following them, but other than that there was absolutely nothing. No living people, no dead people. It was quiet. Maybe even a bit too quiet for his liking. Daryl went around the car to open the trunk, and whereas Connor eyed their surroundings Rick looked up at the sky.

"How far? Night's coming" he observed and walked behind the car as well to get the bags.

"It's a mile. Maybe two" the woman said and adjusted her katana.

Connor finally made his way to the back of the car to get a bag and some weapons as well.  
Daryl's crossbow was lying on one of the duffel bags, and before his friend got the chance to take it he grabbed it with a smirk on his face.

"How 'bout I take that?"

The hunter snorted and grabbed it.

"Yah wish."

Connor chuckled.

"There's a shitton of other weapons. Ye could try something new" he said and pointed at a shotgun, which Rick grabbed then.

"Dream on" Daryl growled and started walking after the woman and Oscar.

The female walker was still staggering after them, but they ignored her completely.

They entered the wood and followed a small dirt road. The woman and Oscar were having the lead, and Connor and Daryl were behind them.  
The Irishman looked up at the sky and tree tops and inhaled with a smirk on his face.

"Is it weird that I like being outside again? Even after all this running around fer months through the winter and after the shit back in Griffin?  
Nice t'see something green again. Prison fences and walls are fucking depressing and gray. No matter how good they work on walkers. Way too Hoag."

Daryl just snorted. Of course he loved being outside. Of course he loved the woods and nature. And maybe he really missed their hunts and searching the woods and other locations. But that didn't change the fact that he also loved being inside some building that was actually secure and walker-proof. Not to mention how much he liked being with this group. He turned his head to look at Connor, who was eyeing their surroundings with a smile on his face. Every once in a while he had completely forgotten about his friend's criminal past, about the fact that Connor had been inside a prison before the dead had started walking.

"How long have yah actually been in prison before this shit happened?" he asked and Connor shrugged.

"Couple of months. Maybe a month in hospital, then we got our cell. Got in there in November, got out in June."

He snickered and looked at Daryl.

"And believe me, our prison here is a full five star compared to the Hoag. And by our prison I mean the shithole _including_ the walkers. Ye can't imagine life inside a max security prison. The absolute fucking worst. The people. Unbelievable shitheads. Murph and I took out about eight of 'em. Certainly wasn't enough. I hope those bastards died bloody when the virus hit Boston."

"Well what about the staff? I thought all those prison guards and cops helped you and liked your shit?" the hunter asked with a confused frown and the Irishman snorted.

"Certainly not all of 'em."

Rick passed them then and both men fell quiet. For a moment no one said anything, simply because both friends were expecting orders from their leader. He kept walking right next to Daryl, and after a moment he spoke without looking at them.

"I heard what you two did for me, for my baby. Going on a run, getting the formula to save her life while I was...working things out" Rick said and looked at Connor.

"Thank you for helping me there."

He then turned his head to look at Daryl.

"Both of you."

The hunter looked at him with a shrug.

"It's what we do."

Connor nodded.

"Aye."

It was quiet for a while, and when Rick stayed with both of them. Connor smirked at the policeman then.

"Besides, yer daughter is a real princess. We just had to."

Daryl rolled his eyes and looked at him.

"Not this crap again."

The Irishman frowned.

"What?"

"The whole princess thing. That's fucking gay. Good lord."

Rick chuckled.

"Carl told me that you call her little ass-kicker."

"Damn right I do."

Connor looked at Rick.

"And that name's bullshit, aye? Tell him. Yer her father, you gotta say."

The policeman smiled and looked down.

"We named her Judith. After Carl's third grade teacher."

"Judith. Judy. Jude. Aye. That's a nice name. Well done."

"Still an ass-kicker" Daryl muttered and both Rick and Connor chuckled.


	29. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 8 " _Made To Suffer_ "

They had encountered at least thirty walkers on their way to Woodbury, which had their delayed their plan by another two hours. By the time they finally reached the location it was already pitch black outside, but they actually welcomed it since it also meant better cover. The town was way more impressive than they would have thought. Massive improvised walls were blocking the street. They were made of car tires and all sorts of material the residents seemed to have found, and what was even more surprising was the fact that they had electricity. Floodlights were blinding them, but Rick's group could still see several guards on top of the wall.

"Well fuck me, that's Fort Knox right over there" Connor muttered and looked at the group.

"What are we gonna do?"

Rick and the others were still looking at the wall, and when Rick was just about to answer the woman suddenly walked away and disappeared behind the bushes.

"Hey! Hey!" he whispered but the woman ignored him. Connor wanted to go after her, but then Rick grabbed his arm.

"No. Stay here. We gotta stay together. Plan this through" he ordered and moved back so they could form a circle.

"We need to downsize" he went on and everybody got their weapons ready.

Connor would look over the roof of the car they were hiding next to, so he could check how things were going.

"Well.. They gotta keep them inside one of these buildings. Maybe the building they use as their headquarters.  
Or maybe they got a small police station or shit like that" the Irishman suggested and his friend snorted.

"Ain't no way we're gonna check in all them buildings. Not with all them guards there. We gotta be sure and don't waste time in there."

"Well maybe we could distract them somehow. Use someone as bait" Connor went on and Daryl frowned.

"Hell no, you want them shot your ass to pieces? Just look at their weapons. We gotta sneak in and..."

They all turned around abruptly when they heard the rustling of some leaves behind them. The four men expected a walker to appear, but then the woman they had taken with them came back. She pointed at something behind her and tried to get them to follow her. For a second the group looked at each other, then Rick nodded.

"All right, let's go" he whispered and everyone but Connor followed right away.

The Irishman watched the guards through narrowed eyes. He could have sworn that there had been one more very close to them.  
He didn't like that they didn't have a plan, which was why he was so hesitant to follow them.

"Leprechaun!" he heard Daryl call out and finally moved as well.

* * *

They entered hostile territory through one of the buildings. They still didn't have a clue if they could really trust the woman, but she seemed to know where to go and what to do. The rooms of the building were filled with supplies, but there were no people in it. They could see countless jars and boxes on the shelves that were filled with food and beverages, and the group was now facing even more supplies than they had found inside the prison's cafeteria.  
  
Everyone had their guns drawn by now. Although Daryl still had his crossbow with him he was now using his automatic rifle. The woman had her katana, Oscar a shotgun and Rick a sniper rifle. Connor knew that he was the least cool fighter right now, but he would always stick to his two Berettas. He was pointing them at whatever was coming, but as soon as they got closer to the room that faced the street they realized that they were alone.

"This is where you were held?" Rick asked the woman when they all came to a halt.

She nodded and took a look around through narrowed eyes.

"I was questioned."

Connor frowned.

"What did they ask ye?"

She turned her head to look at the Irishman.

"They were keeping walkers in cages. I killed them, they asked me why and how."

Connor frowned.

"They're keeping walkers as pets? What te fuck?"

Rick turned around to look at her again.

"Any idea where our people could be?"

Daryl suddenly started running and headed for the windows, which people had covered up with blankets.  
Connor watched him and approached his friend, not liking it at all.

"Eh, be careful. We don't want them t'see us."

Daryl could see people outside and frowned.

"I thought you said there was a curfew" he muttered and Connor came closer to have a look outside as well.

"The street is packed during the day. Those are stragglers" the woman answered and the Irishman sighed.

"We see living people fer once and they always gotta be baddies. Very nice.." he growled and walked away from the window again.

Truth was that he still missed crowded streets that were filled with people and chitchat. For the past couple of months they had only come across a bunch of living people, most of them being some evil fucked up bastards. He loved the idea of a town still being there, but he hated the fact that they were supposed to be their enemies. Rick looked out of the window as well.

"If anyone comes in here, we're sitting ducks. We gotta move."

Connor nodded and approached the woman.

"Well what about the shit I just said outside. Are there some sorta headquarters or some sorta police station?"

"They could be in his apartment."

"Yeah? What if they ain't?" Daryl growled and approached the two of them.

"Then we'll look somewhere else" the woman growled back and Connor shifted.

"What if they are? We should check it out. Split up."

"You said you could help us!" Rick spat and approached the woman with an angry growl.

"I'm doing what I can!" she defended herself and glared at their leader. Connor stepped between them.

"Alright. Let's just...everybody calm down. We should split up and search a couple of buildings.  
We'd be faster, wouldn't be seen so easily and we would be more successful. Aye?"

The others just looked at him until Rick nodded at the back of the room.  
The other three men followed him reluctantly, and once they were further away from the woman their leader started talking.

"If this goes south, we're cutting her loose."

They all looked at her and Oscar frowned.

"You think she's leading us into a trap?"

Connor snorted.

"She's still the only one who can fucking help us getting to Maggie and Glenn."

"Right now it's the blind leading the blind. Think Connor's right. Let's split up."

The Irishman nodded.

"Aye. I could go and try t'distract them. You and Rick form a group, Oscar and mystery woman another."

The hunter frowned.

"Don't be stupid. Ain't no reason to distract them if they don't know we're here. I'll go myself, you and Rick form a group and..."

A loud knock on the door interrupted him mid sentence and the whole group startled.

"Get back! Get back!" Rick hissed and they all started running to get out of the room.

Just a couple of seconds later the door opened.

"I know you're in here. I saw you moving from outside" they heard someone say as they hid in the backroom.

Connor was closest to the door, and when Rick looked at him he nodded. They could hear how the person got closer and closer.

"All right now. You're not supposed to be in here and you know it. Who's in here?"

When the man walked around the corner Connor wrapped his arm around his neck and pressed his gun to his temple, while using his other hand to shut their hostage up.

"Hush and ye don't have t'die" he hissed and the others moved as well.

"Make him kneel. Hands behind your back and shut up!" Rick demanded and pointed his gun at the man as well.

Connor kicked his legs so the guard was forced to kneel. Rick kneeled down in front of him and looked at the Irishman and Daryl.

"Zip tie him" he ordered and the blonde nodded.

While he put a zip tie around their hostage's hand their leader began to question the man.

"Where are our people?"

"I don't know!" the man answered and Connor pulled even harder so the ties were tighter than necessary.

"Stop lying!" he grunted and shoved the man.

"You are holding some of our people. Where the hell are they?!" Rick repeated and pressed his gun to his nose.

"I don't know!"

Connor and Daryl looked up to face Rick. The three men looked at each other for a moment, then they silently agreed that the man was speaking the truth. Rick shook his head angrily and looked at him again.

"Open your mouth" he demanded and their hostage did as he was told.

Their leader stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth, and when Rick nodded Daryl knocked him out with a blow to the back of his head.  
Connor kneeled down to grab the man by his legs and dragged him further inside the room.

"Well, so how do we do this shit then?"

Rick approached the windows again to have another look outside.

"Let's split up. Search some buildings. You and Daryl will form a group, me, Oscar and her another. Move fast, stay low, try not to shoot, keep quiet."

The Irishman nodded and let go as soon as he had dragged the man into a corner. He searched him for any useful weapons and took everything he could find, then he left the back room to approach the door and windows as well. They all stopped in their tracks when they heard gunfire outside. A couple of seconds later people started shouting at each other outside. Connor walked faster and pressed his back against the wall between the window and door.

"Shit, did they see us?!"

Rick approached the door and opened it slowly and carefully. They could hear how several people were running around outside, heading somewhere else.  
Soon the street in front of the house they were hiding in was completely empty.

"I don't think so. But I think I know where Glenn and Maggie are" the policeman said and stepped outside.

* * *

They had been watching the house for several minutes until things finally calmed down again. They assumed that only a couple of guards were still inside, because most people had left again. Since there had been gunfire and shouting going on for several minutes the whole group just knew that their people had to be in there, maybe trying to fight their way out.   
  
As soon as they had made sure that most of the guards and people were gone they made their way through one of the windows. The entire building was down a smaller alley, and far away from the other houses where families were living in. It was the perfect place to hide things from public, and it was a lot uglier inside than all the other buildings they had seen.

They had never split up, and once again Connor didn't like it. No one was watching the outside, and they were all making their way through the corridor inside with guns drawn and ready to shoot. He knew that they needed all the manpower they could gather, simply because they didn't know how many guards were inside, but that still didn't mean that he liked the idea of having no backup.   
  
The Irishman had insisted on staying outside to watch their backs, but Daryl had made it very clear that he would never get to do that, and the others had listened to Rick's orders instead. So here they were, making their way down the hallway, with their leader and his sniper gun right up front. They all came to abrupt halt when they saw a man walking around a corner, and once he was gone they kept walking to get closer to the room they hoped to find Glenn and Maggie in. The group seemed to get closer, because then they could hear someone talking on the other side of the wall. They all knelt down to listen for a second, then the whole group looked at Rick.

"How we gonna do this?" Daryl asked and Connor looked at him and Rick.

"Use the element of surprise. Storm in there and shoot them quick and accurate. Did that back in the old days. Always worked.  
Took out bout ten people at once before they even got the chance t'shoot back."

Rick shook his head.

"No. No gun fire. We don't need to draw any more in and let them surround us and we need to save ammo. I got a better idea. Let's use these" he said and pointed at the bag where they kept the flash bangs and tear gas. The whole group looked up when they heard the others move next door.

"On your feet, move! Let's go! Come on!" one of the guards yelled and Connor and Daryl grabbed some of the flash bangs.

"Shit!" the hunter exclaimed and turned around to see if the guards were coming.

They could hear footsteps next door, so it was about time they did something. Rick grabbed one as well, and when he nodded all three men threw the grenades and ran away. A loud bang could be heard, then smoke filled the entire hallway and room. As soon as the Rick's group heard how the others started coughing and yelling they used their chance.   
  
Daryl positioned himself by the corner and pointed his gun at the smoke, ready to shoot anyone who could be a threat to them. Rick and Connor ran back to search for Maggie and Glenn in all the chaos, and soon the shooting started. They could hardly see a thing and pretty soon it was almost impossible to breathe. Connor started coughing just as violently, but then he caught glimpse of Maggie, who was crouching on the ground with a bag on her head. He ran to get her, bullets flying all around him. He couldn't even really think about anything, he just grabbed the woman by her arm and dragged her along.

"Move move move!" he demanded and shoved her, a second later a couple of bullets hit the wall right in front of him.

"Connor?!" he could hear her ask but kept shoving her, trying to get out and away from the shooting.

"Aye! Just move!"

In just a matter of seconds all hell broke loose. The shooting wouldn't stop, and there was smoke everywhere. People were yelling at each other and shouting orders, but Rick's group just kept moving. They made their way through the window they had come through earlier, zigzagging their way as far away from the shooting as possible.   
  
Now that they were away from the smoke they could actually take a look at Glenn and Maggie for the first time. Rick was helping the Korean because he could barely walk. It looked like he had been beat up, and he was not wearing a shirt because he had given it to Maggie. There was no blood on her, but Connor, who hadn't let go of her ever since he had dragged her outside, was still worried.

"Are ye okay? Did they touch ye or..?"

Maggie shook her head and looked at Glenn.

"No, but look at him" she answered with shaky voice.

Rick hushed them angrily, now that they were still out in the open. Rick and Oscar were to their left and right and kept watch, but they still felt terribly exposed. When they finally got closer to an other house Daryl ran faster so he could open the door for them.

"Inside! Quick!" Rick hissed and Connor let go of Maggie so he could watch their back.

Rick and Maggie helped Glenn inside, and as soon as they had made sure that the building was secure and no guards were anywhere near them Connor and Daryl finally entered the building themselves. When they got inside they could see that Glenn was sitting on the ground with Maggie right next to him. Oscar was checking the back only return with a headshake.

"Ain't no way out back here" he muttered. Connor turned around to have a look outside the window.

People with guns were running around outside, the wall was still about three blocks away from them.

"And no way out here. Too many people."

"Rick, how did you find us?" he heard Maggie ask and turned around again. He approached the wounded and got rid of his jacket.

"Here, take that" he muttered and offered it Glenn, who took it with a grunt.  
  
Because the Korean kept holding his side in pain and could hardly move the Irishman decided to help him with the jacket.

"Don't worry, we're gonna put ye back t'gether" he muttered and Rick approached them.

"How bad is he hurt?"

"I'll be alright" Glenn answered and Connor took a closer look at him.

"Looks like his rip could be broken or sprained."

Maggie looked up and searched the room.

"Where's that woman?" she asked and everybody looked up. Connor turned around and frowned.

"She was right behind me."

Rick headed for the windows and moved a blanket out of the way so he could have a look outside.

"Maybe she was spotted" Oscar suggested and Connor looked at Rick.

"Want me ta go back fer her?"

Their leader shook his head.

"No. We gotta get them out of here. She's on her own."

The Irishman nodded and looked at Glenn again, trying to help him up.  
The Korean groaned in pain when he was moved, but then he looked at Daryl.

"Daryl, this was Merle."

The hunter looked at him and approached them with wide eyes. Connor froze and was just as surprised. _Had Glenn really just said that his friend's brother was still alive?_ He let go of him and just looked at him in shock. _No, this couldn't be true. That man wasn't supposed to be alive. This couldn't..._

"It was. He did this" Glenn went on and Connor turned his head to look at his friend.

When he saw the look on Daryl's face he panicked even more. He didn't want it to be true.

"You saw him?" the hunter asked and Glenn nodded.

"Face to face. He threw a walker at me. He was gonna execute us."

"What?" Connor asked and got furious.

For months now he had been with Daryl, had seen himself as pretty much his brother. And after the couple of stories he had heard about this Merle he had always seen himself as the _better_ brother. He remembered what Daryl had told him when he had thought he was dead. _All them years I never had anyone. No buddies, no one but Merle. Yah were the brother I've always wanted t'have. And now this? Now the guy was back? And he had tortured Glenn and Maggie?_ It made him so furious. Because he didn't want to share Daryl. Not with anyone. Because he didn't want Daryl to have a brother, because this had been the one thing that had brought them together: the fact that they had both lost their brothers.

Part of him just wanted to kill this Merle guy, and he knew how wrong it was because he wanted to do it out of jealousy. But then there was the other part in him that knew that he just had to kill Daryl's brother. For all the things he had done wrong with his friend, for not looking after his own flesh and blood and letting him get hurt and shredded with scars. For disappearing and leaving Daryl like that. For torturing and hurting people of the group he had once been part of. But when he saw the look on his friend's face, so shocked and surprised, he knew that he could never kill Merle, because Daryl would never forgive him that.

"S..so my brother's this governor?" Daryl stammered in disbelief and Connor got up to walk away.

He needed a minute to calm down, and he was getting sick of the fact that his friend's brother really was here, so close, that Daryl was talking about his _real_ brother now. Maggie shook her head.

"No, it's somebody else. Your brother's his lieutenant or something."

Daryl still looked at her in shock.

"Does he know I'm still with you?"

Maggie nodded and so did Glenn.

"He does now. Rick, I'm sorry. We told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out" he apologized.

The policeman knelt down next to him and put a hand on his knee.

"Don't. No need to apologize."

He went back to check the windows once more.

Connor stood by the wall on the other side of the room and watched his friend walk around. He could see how surprised and torn Daryl was, and he seemed to be so lost in thoughts that he didn't even get that his friend was watching him. Connor knew what it could mean for them. What could happen to their friendship just because of the fact that Merle was back. He knew that Daryl appreciated him as a friend and wanted him to stay with him even with his brother around, but this was the very difference between the two of them.

The fact that Connor wanted more than just friendship. He wanted to be _his brother_. He wanted to be the closest person in his life. He didn't want to just be his friend. He didn't want to share him, just like he had never wanted to share Murphy with anyone. Not with any women, not with anyone but a few friends like Rocco.  
  
He just needed a person in his life that was all his own, and he knew how possessive and selfish he had always been in that regard. He didn't want any of it, and although he knew how cruel and unfair it was towards Daryl to actually wish for something like that, he really wished that Merle was dead.

Daryl couldn't stop walking around. Because right now he was more than shocked. Although he and his brother had always sort of hated each other and gotten into fights more than once, he had still missed him. He had spent over a year wondering where his brother was, if he was still alive, what he was doing. And now this. Now he knew that his own flesh and blood was so close, and that knowledge was slowly tearing him apart.   
  
Of course, he hated Merle for doing all sorts of shit again and torturing Glenn and Maggie like that, but at least he was still alive. He had made it, that tough son of a bitch. And no matter how much he hated and even feared his big brother sometimes, he still wanted to see him again. More than anything in this fucked up world.

"They're gonna be looking for us" Maggie said and snapped both Daryl and Connor out of it.

Rick looked at Glenn and Herschel's daughter and nodded.

"We have to get back to the wall. Find a way out. Can you walk?" he asked the Korean and approached him to help him up.

"We got a car a few miles out."

Glenn nodded and tried to get up by himself.

"I'm good" he grunted and both Rick and Maggie helped him.

Daryl approached Rick, panic washing over him now that he realized that they were about to turn their backs on his brother once again.

"Hey, if Merle's around, I need to see him" he demanded and put a hand on Rick's shoulder to stop him.

The policeman shook his head and helped Glenn and Maggie to the door.

"Not now. We're in hostile territory."

Daryl looked at him, begging him with wide eyes.

"He's my brother! He ain't gonna.."

"Look at what he did!" Rick interrupted him and pointed at beat up Glenn.

"He's dangerous, he's one of them now. You still got Connor, haven't you?"

"But it ain't the same! Merle's my real brother, not him!" Daryl protested and wouldn't look at the Irishman, who watched them with a blank look on his face.

So here he had the absolute proof. Daryl wasn't his brother, and although the hunter had said many things that had hinted something that practically meant that a brotherhood was going on between them, now he had heard the truth. It had been going on for a couple of months, but only as long as Merle was gone. Connor snorted and looked away. Of course. How foolish he had been to actually believe that it would stay that way even with Merle around.

After months of being together he had to realize that maybe there had never been a real friendship going on between them. They had just used each other all the time. He had stuck around because Daryl had his dead brother's face. They had become friends because Daryl was practically Murphy minus the accent and personality and blood. And the hunter had stuck with him and clung to him because he had just needed a temporary big brother until his real brother came back. And now he _was_ back. And he was no longer needed.

"Look, we gotta—we gotta get out of here now" Rick tried to reason with the hunter, but Daryl wouldn't listen.

_He just needed to see him, why wouldn't their leader get that?_

"Maybe I can talk to him! Maybe I can work something out!"

_Please. I need to see my brother._

Connor finally shifted and approached them, understanding how important it really was to his friend.  
No matter how much it broke his heart, he still wanted to do something.

"Aye. I could help him find his brother. Could also be a good distraction, they focus on us and you can get Glenn and Maggie outta here" he suggested and was surprised how defeated he sounded.

Daryl turned his head to look at him for a second, and he looked like a lost puppy, so very un-Daryl. For the first time the Irishman saw how much of a little brother his friend really could be, and it broke his heart even more, knowing that this was a little brother desperately wanting to find his big brother, the big brother _he_ wasn't and would never be. Rick still wouldn't give in and shook his head.

"No no no. You're not thinking straight" he said and moved closer to Daryl to look him in the eye.

"Look, no matter what they say, they're hurt. Glenn can barely walk. How are we gonna make it out if we get overrun by walkers or this governor catches up to us? I need you!" he said and looked at Connor as well. "Both of you. You're the two people I can always count on, my strongest force. Now get a hold of yourselves and think about Glenn and Maggie for a second! Are you with me?"

Daryl looked at Rick for a moment, and one could see how disappointed and even sad he was, but he still nodded.

"Yeah" he murmured and the policeman nodded as well.

The whole group shifted then to get ready for a possible fight, and as Daryl searched one of the bags for more flash bangs and weapons Connor approached him to kneel down next to him and help him. Both men didn't speak for a moment and just listened to the others talking, but then Connor spoke up.

"As soon as we're done helping the others to the wall I could help ye find yer brother if you want" he muttered and Daryl looked up to face him.

The hunter wouldn't say anything yet, and Connor wouldn't look at him either.

"I know what I'd feel like if I were so close t'my brother but weren't allowed ta see him. I would fuck the rules, too. Family's more important than friendships and rules. And I know what if feels like not t'have yer brother around and ye just wanna see him again, want him back no matter what."

He sighed and let go of the flash bangs to look at Daryl.

"So whatever you wanna do, 'm gonna help ye. Cos that's what..friends do, aye? So just gimme a sign and I'm with you."

Daryl just looked his friend in the eye for a moment and couldn't help but feel guilty, even torn. He could see that Connor was disappointed and upset because of the whole Merle thing, although the Irishman would never admit it. And he hated how shit like this could happen from one second to the next, how people could really make him choose between Merle and Connor.   
  
Because he didn't want to choose, but at the same time he knew that he could never have them both. He knew his brother and friend all too well, and he knew that they would end up killing each other over him. Right now he didn't want to choose or even think about it, so he placed a hand on the Irishman's shoulder and nodded.

"Thanks, but I think Rick's right. We gotta help Glenn and Maggie" he just said and let go. He grabbed one of the flash bangs and got up.

Rick and the others were already standing by the door, so Connor took one and got up as well.

"On three. Stay tight." the policeman said and everybody nodded. Their leader counted down, then he opened the door with a determined pull.


	30. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **setting:** episode 8 " _Made To Suffer_ "

As soon as they had thrown the first couple of grenades all hell broke loose again.  
In a matter of seconds the entire street was filled with smoke and the guards on the walls reacted instantly.

"Hey! Over there!" they yelled and Rick's group waited just a second more until there was enough smoke covering them.

When their leader finally gave the order to go and shoot, he and Daryl were the first to leave the building, covering their injured people. Connor grabbed Glenn by his arm to help him walk, and Maggie was right by his side. They had made their way around a corner when a guard spotted them with a flashlight.   
  
"There they are!"he yelled and more people pointed their guns at the small group. Rick was the first to open fire, a second later Daryl and Oscar joined in. Now that Connor was helping Glenn he could only use one of his guns, and he knew that they were useless because the guards were too far away anyway. So he tried his best to keep his eyes on the injured and covered their backs, should any fighter of Woodbury manage to get too close to them.

They could see about three guards on two large school busses which they used as part of the wall, and both Rick and Daryl took aim to shoot them and make it possible for the others to leave the small town. The group stayed together and kept moving, zigzagging their way to the wall and never stopping. For a second this really felt like war, and Connor thanked his father and uncle that they had taught him so well.   
  
When they finally got closer and no guards were to be seen on this side of the street they heard shots coming from behind them. When the group turned around they could see that another large number of Woodbury fighters was hiding behind benches, trees and lamp posts on the other side. The smoke was clearing by now so Rick turned his head to look at the others.

"Go! Take cover! Get there!" he yelled and pointed at a small alley between two houses.

Glenn was still having trouble walking, but Connor urged him to go faster until they reached the corner and he could put the injured down. Daryl was the last to come to them, and he wouldn't stop shooting. All sorts of bullets were raining down on them as well, hitting the stone walls and corners around them.

"How many?" Rick yelled as he reloaded his gun.

Connor let go of Glenn and did the same. Daryl placed himself between them because he was out of ammo as well.

"I didn't see!" Oscar yelled and the others knelt down to take cover.

"Don't matter. There's gonna be more of them. We need to move" Daryl growled and Connor nodded.

"Aye. We're never gonna get back t'the house we came through, we gotta make it to those busses over there, jump over the fence, take cover in the woods and make run fer the car."

He looked up and handed Glenn one of the rifles.

"Listen, I know it hurts, but ye gotta shoot with us, buddy" he said and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I can help ye walk, but this part's gonna be tough."

The Korean nodded, although he was obviously in much pain and could hardly breathe.

"Got it" he gasped and took his girlfriend's hand.

"Any grenades left?" Rick asked the Irishman, who had taken the bag with him.

He searched it and nodded.

"Aye, but only three."

Rick nodded.

"Get 'em ready. We gotta gun into the wall!"

The shooting wouldn't stop and Maggie and Oscar tried to shoot back in the meantime, whereas Connor, Rick and Daryl took the last couple of grenades.

"You guys go ahead. I'm gonna lay down some cover fire" Daryl muttered and his friend looked at him with an angry frown.

"What? No! Don't be stupid! That's fucking suicide, we gotta make run fer it, stay together and get te fuck outta here!"

Daryl shook his head and moved.

"Too hairy. Someone's gotta cover your asses. I'll be right behind you!"

Connor shook his head and grabbed his friend by his arm.

"Don't you dare! Yer gonna stay with us, don't think I don't get what yer fucking playing at!"

His friend ignored him and got out of the alley to throw a grenade.

"Ready? Let's go!" he yelled and started running.

A couple of seconds later he disappeared behind a cloud of smoke.

"Daryl!" Connor yelled in horror but Rick grabbed him by his shoulder.

"Move! Let's get out of here!" he ordered and the whole group moved, leaving the Irishman no choice but to go with them.

"Where the fuck's Daryl?!" he yelled and searched the surroundings but couldn't find him because of all the smoke.

"Connor! We need your help!" he heard Maggie yell and gritted his teeth.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed and ran after them, praying to god that Daryl was somewhere close to the wall.

"Keep going!" he could hear Rick shout from somewhere, and there was smoke and bullets all around them.

The busses eventually appeared in front of them, which meant that they had made it to the wall.  
Oscar joined them by the front of one of the vehicles and helped Connor pull up Glenn.

"Did ye see Daryl on yer way here?" the Irishman yelled at the prisoner, but Oscar shook his head.

"No! We gotta move!" he answered and helped the injured Korean on top of the roof.

Just a second later he was hit by a bullet, which had missed Connor by a couple of millimeters.

"Shit! Get down! Get down!" the Irishman yelled and he, Glenn and Maggie ducked down.

Oscar fell down right next to the bus, and he wasn't moving anymore. Connor cursed and jumped off the bus to check on the prisoner, only to find him dead. He shot him in the head with an angry growl and looked up to search for their leader and his friend.

"Fuck! Rick!" he yelled, but Rick wouldn't answer him.

"Rick, Daryl! We gotta go! They shot Oscar!" he yelled once more and looked up to see where Glenn and Maggie were.

"Get off the bus! Jump down and hide on the other side of the wall!"

"But we can't.." Maggie tried to answer back, but the blonde wouldn't let her.

"Just go! We don't need anymore people dead!" he yelled and shoved her away, towards Glenn's outstretched hand.

"Rick!" Connor yelled once more and got both his guns out.

He was just done reloading the other one when Rick finally appeared, gun thrown over his shoulder and running towards the bus.

"Let's go!" he yelled and Connor grabbed him by his arms.

"Wait! Did ye see Daryl?!"

The policeman shook his head and headed for the busses to climb up them.

"No! Let's go!"

Connor just looked at him, panic slowly taking control over him.

"We can't just leave him!"

"I think I saw him go over the wall over there! Let's go!"

The Irishman turned around once more to check the streets behind them, but there was so much smoke that he could hardly see a thing apart from all the gunfire.

"Are ye sure?!"

The policeman was on top of the bus already and reached out for him.

"Let's go!"

* * *

They were hiding behind a train close to the town when Connor realized that Daryl was no where in sight.

"Get down!" Rick ordered and knelt down behind a car, right where they had first taken a look at Woodbury just an hour before.

Connor searched their surroundings in horror, trying to find his friend, but they were all by themselves.

"Come on, Daryl" the policeman said and the Irishman looked at him with wide eyes.

"What? I thought he was already here!"

"He was standing by the wall, covering us so we could get out of here. He told me to go, said he'd be right behind us."

Connor growled and grabbed Rick by his shirt to shove him against the car.

"You fucking lied ta me! You said he went over the wall! Ye said he'd be here, not in there!" he yelled and Rick hushed him angrily.

"Shut. Up! We don't need them to hear us!"

"Fuck you! You lied ta me ye fucking bastard! I'm gonna kill ye!" Connor spat and Rick grabbed him by his shirt as well.

"How was I supposed to get you here otherwise? We need you here, I just told you! We gotta.."

He stopped talking and let go of Connor to take his gun when they heard someone move behind them.

The whole group grabbed their weapons and turned around to point them at their pursuer, only to see that it was the mysterious woman with the katana.

"Where the hell were you?! Put your hands up!" Rick spat and pointed his gun at her, ignoring Connor completely.

The Irishman, however, was having a complete breakdown. Because everyone but Daryl was there. Because he had seen how those people had shot Oscar dead, and then they had turned their backs on his friend, who was probably still in there. With a bunch of crazy trigger-happy people who kept walkers as pets and tortured strangers for the fun of it.   
  
For a second he didn't know how to breathe, because the separation from his friend really hit him. He felt just like when he had lost his brother, so terribly alone, so guilty, so freaked out. He watched how Rick freed the woman of her Katana, but he wasn't really with them anymore. He turned around to look back at Woodbury, back where his friend was, maybe dead, maybe kept prisoner, maybe tortured.

"Get what you came for?" Rick asked the woman and she leaned against the train.

"Where are the rest of your people?" she just asked.

"They got Oscar" Glenn answered, a gun pointed at her as well.

Connor finally seemed to function again, because he darted forward and shoved the woman against the train.

"Where the hell is he?! Did ye see him? Where is he! I swear ta god, if ye did something ta him then.." he yelled and Rick grabbed him by his shoulder, but the Irishman shoved him away.

"Fuck off!"

"I brought you here to save them" the woman countered and looked at Glenn and Maggie.

Connor kept walking around and grabbed his hair.

"Thanks for the help" Rick answered and Connor looked at him.

"Thanks fer fucking nothing! Daryl's still in there!"

"If you need help to go back in there for Daryl.." the woman began but the Irishman exploded again.

"Fuck you and yer help! I'm going in there myself" he growled and started walking.

Rick grabbed him by his shoulder again, but then the Irishman turned away and punched him in the face.

"Fuck off! This is all yer fault! Ye lied ta me! Left him in there as bait, just to protect yer ass! It's always just about you, you asshole!  
As soon as people are in trouble ye just turn yer back on them, same shit ye did with Andrea! I'm going in there" he said and started walking once more.

Rick grabbed him again and shoved him against the train.

"You can't go in there. As soon as they see you they're gonna put a bullet to your head and you won't be of use to anybody!  
Not us, not Daryl, now calm down and think!"

"He did this shit on purpose! He _wanted_ t'stay back!" Connor yelled and everyone fell quiet.

The Irishman turned his head to glare at Glenn.

"Ever since ye mentioned his fucking brother he wanted t'stay back ta see him again. And because all of ye shitheads were so caught up with yer own bullshit you didn't get that! And now he's in there with this Governor freak or god knows who, and we're hiding behind a fucking train like scared little bunnies instead of fucking doing something!"

He checked his guns and knives and looked in the general direction of Woodbury.

"I'm going in there" he repeated and tried to start walking once more, but once again the group tried to hold him back.

The Irishman got so furious then that he grabbed both his guns and pointed them at them.

"I said I'm going in there."

* * *

Daryl found himself in the room they had kept Glenn and Maggie prisoners just an hour ago. So they really had managed to capture him, but that was exactly what he had wanted. He knew that it was wrong and unfair. Especially since he had told absolutely nobody about his plan. He also knew how stupid it really was to rely on possibilities and maybe's, but truth was that he just wanted to see his brother again. No matter how much Merle loved to fuck him up sometimes, he still was his big brother and he would never let them kill him. Daryl knew that he was going to get out of here sooner or later, that this was his only chance to see his brother again.

The bad part about his plan was that they had used him as their punching bag for a while, simply to take revenge for all the people he and his group had killed today. They had also asked him about the prison and his group, but the hunter had not given in. He was used to pain and torture after all, because he had survived his abusive father.  
  
He didn't know for how long they had tried to beat anything out of him, but after a while they had left him alone. The hunter hadn't stopped asking them about Merle, his brother, which had been the very reason why they had left him alone soon after his capture. So here he was now, all by himself, surrounded by silence, strapped to a chair, shirt ripped in halves and blood on his face.

Part of him really hated the fact that he was strapped to a chair again, but he just knew that it was worth it. Sooner or later he was going to see his brother. He counted on that. Daryl expected Merle to come through the door in front of him any minute now, he was the Governor's lieutenant after all. He had been the one to torture Maggie and Glenn, so he just _had_ to come in here.   
  
And so he waited and waited until he finally heard footsteps and muttering on the other side of the door. All the more did it surprise him when it opened and Merle _wasn't_ there. The bald and the long-haired guard had returned again, but this time with another man between them. Their new prisoner had a bag over his head. Daryl didn't even need to see his face, he knew who it was. The long-haired guard grabbed the bag then so he could see their prisoner's face.

"This one of yours?" he asked and Daryl just stared at their prisoner.

His blonde hair was a complete mess, but it didn't look like they had done anything to him yet.  
The hunter gritted his teeth and looked at Connor, who looked back at him with wide eyes.  
Daryl shook his head and looked at the two other men through narrowed eyes.

"Never seen this fuckface in my life. Now, where the hell's my brother" he growled and the men chuckled.

"Really?" the bald one asked and looked at the other man, who chuckled.  
  
He suddenly pulled his gun and pressed it against Connor's throat.

"Guess you don't mind us finishing him off right here and now? Killed a bunch of our best men, you know?"

Daryl just glared at them, his heart racing. For a second he looked at Connor, and he was absolutely furious.  
Everything had worked out until now, and now the Irishman was about to fuck everything up.

"Don't matter. Just get Merle here, Pocahontas" he said to the guard with the long hair and gave him a death glare.

For a moment they just looked at each other, whereas Connor tried to fight their grip.  
When the guard undid the safety of his gun the hunter finally broke.

"Don't!" he yelled and both guards chuckled.

"We got orders. Shoot to kill" they said and the one with the gun placed a finger on the trigger.

"You can't you lamebrains! He's fucking immune! Just let him go and get Merle!" Daryl yelled and tried to fight the zip ties and tape that strapped him to the chair.

The guards laughed and grabbed Connor by his hair to yank his head back.

"Yeah, sure" they muttered and Connor tried to glare at Daryl.

"Shut up, ye dumbass" he growled and then tried to look at the other two men.

"Just let 'im go. He's got nothin ta do with it.'t was my idea ta attack yer town. He wanted to leave my group, I came back ta finish him off. He wanted t'tell ye everything about us, wanted to defect ta you because his brother's with ye. But I guess my plan didn't work. Ye got me now. I'm their leader. And I guess he got what he always wanted, don't ye, Daryl _Dixon_."

The two men looked at the hunter with a frown.

"That true?"

Daryl kept fighting the ties. He couldn't believe this was happening, how wrong his plan could go just in a couple of seconds. He hadn't wanted Connor to come here, because in contrast to him they could actually kill him, Merle there or not. He hated his friend for all his sacrificing himself for his sake bullshit, so he kept fighting.

"Bullshit!"

They punched the Irishman's stomach hard because of that, and a violent and painful gasp escaped his mouth, now that all the air was pressed out of his lungs. A second later they hit him again and looked at Daryl, who kept yelling at them and fought the ties.

"Get off him and get Merle! Or I swear I'm gonna kill yah!"

The guards laughed and pressed their gun to Connor's head this time, and Daryl got even more furious.

"Don't! Just look at his arm!"

The Irishman glared at him.

"Shut up!"

"You kill him now yah kill the only chance for a cure! Just look! Now stop this shit and get Merle! We can work something out, alright?!"

"I said shut up!" Connor yelled and glared at his friend.

"Don't fuck this shit up now" he growled and the hunter got even more furious.

"Fuck this shit up? You're the one who came back here, you dumb fuck!"

The two guards listened to them for a second, then they grabbed Connor's arms, which they had tied behind his back.  
The Irishman tried to fight them off and started kicking.

"Fuck off!" he yelled and tried to turn away, but they still managed to grab his arms to take a look at them.

A second later the bald guard gasped.

"Holy shit, Tony" he muttered and grabbed the Irishman's left arm to turn it in the other's guards direction .

The Irishman yelped when they nearly dislocated his arm while doing so.

"Ow! I said fuck off!" he complained and tried to turn away, but it was useless.

He could feel how they grabbed his left forearm behind his back and looked at it, even moving their fingers over the scars.

They could clearly see a healed bite wound, and when they looked back up again they eyed Connor and Daryl in surprise.

"You're lying."

"He is" Connor said and nodded, eyes fixed on Daryl.

"I ain't! Now get Merle!"

Both guards looked at each other for a moment until the bald guy sighed.

"I don't know, Tony. Perhaps we should tell the Governor about this shit. Cos that's..that's a fucking bite wound, man."

"It ain't! He bit me! Cos he was never fond of my way of leading our group! Now leave me alone with this fucker so I can finish him off fer betraying us, then ye can do whatever ye want with me."

Both guards ignored the two of them and just look at each other. The long-haired man nodded.

"Alright. Let's tie this mick up and get the Governor. He'll want to see this" he said and shoved Connor towards another chair.

The Irishman kept fighting their grip, but it was useless.   
They forced him to sit on a chair and tied his arms and legs to it, making sure that his left arm was strapped to it in a way they could see his scar.

"Just. Get. Merle!" Daryl kept yelling until the bald guard approached him and punched him hard in the face.

"Shut up!" he spat and went back to help the other man with Connor.

Once they had made sure that both their prisoners would go nowhere they left the room, muttering to themselves.  
As soon as the door was closed it was quiet for a while, and now that Connor's chair was further up front both men couldn't really look at each other.

"Yah happy now, you stupid asshole?" Daryl growled and Connor tried to turn his head.

"What. You really think I wasn't gonna come back fer you? I was just trying ta get yer ass outta here, you ungrateful fuck."

The hunter snorted.

"Well, guess yer stupid plan worked, didn't it."

The Irishman looked up at the ceiling with a tired sigh.

"Fuck you" he muttered and shook his head.

"Where's Rick? And the others?" Daryl asked after a moment and Connor shrugged.

"Outside, back inside the prison. I don't know. I ran back in here as soon as they turned their backs on me."

The hunter gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"I got it covered til you asshole came in here and fucked everything up."

"Ye call being strapped to a chair and getting beat up "got it covered"?"

"Shut up. No one's gonna kill me. Cos Merle ain't gonna let 'em. But you bet they're gonna kill yer sorry ass now."

"I was gonna get yer outta here. Make them believe you weren't on our side and _you_ fucked it up, nat me."

Both men shook their heads once more and snorted. It was quiet for a moment and Connor looked down on himself to look at the scar on his arm.

"Did ye find yer brother?" he asked then and Daryl shook his head.

"Nope."

"You did this shit on purpose, didn't ye" he went on and Daryl snorted once more.

"So what."

Connor sighed.

"So what were ye gonna do. Find yer brother, have a big warm hug, walk off into the sunset and get a lovely house down Summer Street in fucking Woodbury?"

"Shutup."

"Yer one ungrateful bastard. Leaving the group like that. Scaring the fucking shit outta us."

Daryl frowned angrily.

"Ungrateful? Cos after months of playing brother on you I actually wanted to see my real brother for once? Fuck you sideways."

"You could've told me. I would've helped ye and we wouldn't be stuck in this fucking shithole now."

"Yeah, except I don't want your fucking help here. This is between me 'n Merle."

Connor got angry and tried to turn his chair around so he could actually face his friend.

"So what, this is the fucking thanks I get fer risking my life ta save yer ass? A "thanks but I don't need yer fucking help"?"

"How am I supposed to thank you asshole for getting yourself killed for shit like that? I was fine until you fucked shit up!  
Ever since I met you you just keep fucking shit up all the time!"

"At least I'm fucking shit up trying ta do the right thing! Not like yer brother, who fucks shit up and hurts people and you and ends up in prison and shit like that!"

"So what, and you didn't hurt people and yer brother and ended up in prison? At least he's my flesh and blood, he's my brother, not you!"

"And who's here now trying ta save yer life, huh? Me? Or him?!"

"Fuck you!" Daryl spat and they both fell quiet. Connor sighed and eyed the door for a while, expecting people to come back any minute now.

"So how are we gonna get outta here then" he muttered and Daryl snorted.

"We ain't."

Connor shook his head and sighed.

"Perfect."

They just sat there and waited for several minutes, trying to fight their ties, find a way out, but no matter how hard they fought it was useless.

Daryl soon felt guilty because of the whole thing, it had been his idea and his plan after all.  
He had been foolish to believe that Connor wasn't going to come after him. So in the end it was his fault the Irishman was stuck here as well.

"Hey leprechaun" he muttered then and Connor tried to turn his head.

"Aye."

"Thanks for having my back, though."

The blonde in front of him chuckled.

"Well, someone's gotta watch yer suicidal ass, aye."

Daryl chuckled as well, remembering the scenario when he had been the one saying those words back on the farm.

"Eh Daryl" Connor said then and Daryl looked at his friend's back.

"Yeah?"

"Listen, should we not make it outta here alive, I want ye ta know that..."

He stopped talking when someone opened the door once more. Both men fell quiet and looked up to see who was entering the room now. Both guards were back with two other men. One of them was wearing glasses and looked rather inconspicuous, the other one looked far more authoritative and had a bandage around his right eye. The four men entered the room without a word and just looked at Connor and Daryl for a while, then they fixed their eyes on the Irishman.

"Is this the one we're talking about?" the man with the bandage asked and both guards nodded.

The bald man stepped forward.

"Yeah, he has a bite wound on his arm. The other one kept babbling about him being immune."

The man with the bandage looked up to look at Daryl then. He started walking again and took a closer look at him.

"Then you must be Daryl" he said and the hunter frowned.

"Ain't got no time for chitchat. Where the hell's my brother."

The man walked around him and just looked at the hunter.

"Merle? Outside. Waiting for you. We're gonna take you to him in a minute. Just gotta take a look at your...friend first" he said and looked at the other man with the glasses.

"Take a look at his arm" he demanded and the man nodded.

He approached Connor who gave him a death glare and tried to move out of his reach.

"Fuck off, four eyes" he growled and the man looked offended for a second, but then he still approached him and pointed at the Irishman's arm.

"May I?"

Connor snorted.

"How about no? Get yer hands of me!" he yelled and the two other guards approached him.

"Milton!" the man with the bandage called out and the other man placed a hand on Connor's arm despite the Irishman's protests.

The bald prisoner got closer to him and grabbed him by his hair to hold him in place. For a moment the man just looked at the scar, inspected it, moved his fingers over it and took a closer look at it, and the other man both Daryl and Connor believed to be the Governor came closer as well.

"How does it look?"

The man with the glasses shrugged.

"I don't know. It most definitively is a bite wound. But it could be from anybody. Infected or not."

Connor fought them again and gave them a death glare.

"Fuck off" he demanded once more and tried to get rid of the ties.

He hated how everyone was staring and him and treating him like an animal in a zoo or a test subject in a lab.

"Is it true?" the Governor asked and the other man looked at the scars once more.

"I don't know. I would have to get blood samples and run a few tests, mix his blood with infected samples, see what..."

"We haven't got time for this" the other man growled and got up.

For a second he looked Connor in the eye and the Irishman glared back at him just as furiously, then the Governor turned around to look at the other guard.

"Get a walker."


	31. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 8 " _Made To Suffer_ "

_**five weeks after the farm incident...** _

"Can I ask yah something?" he heard Daryl murmur and opened his eyes.

It was in the middle of the night and he had been asleep, but his friend had woken him up. Connor yawned and turned on his back. He blinked a few times and stared at the ceiling of the office they were hiding in, then he rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms and legs. They were sleeping on the old fold-out bed to preserve some sort of heat, and now that they were used to sleeping next to each other anyway they didn't even mind it.

"Aye. Sure. What is it?" Connor murmured and turned his head to look at the man next to him.

Daryl was lying there on his back, resting his head on his folded arms. The hunter was staring at the ceiling as well and seemed lost in thoughts.

"What'd it feel like?"

Connor frowned.

"What?"

Daryl turned his head and grabbed his friend's left arm, which was lying between them.   
He took it and lifted it up so they could both look at it.

"This, dumbass. What was it like?"

The Irishman looked at the healing red bite marks on his arm.

"Ye mean getting bit?"

His friend let go of his arm and sighed.

"I mean the whole package. Getting bit and turning, except for the not getting turned. Shoot."

The Irishman frowned even more.

"Why d'ye ask?"

Daryl frowned as well and got angry.

"Does there have to be a reason? Just..start talking!"

But of course there was a reason. It had been a close call today in the shower room.   
The walker could've bit him just like that, and now he was curious what it actually felt like.  
Connor turned his head and stared at the ceiling again.

"Alright, calm down bitchy" he muttered and sighed.

He grabbed his left arm after a moment, gently messaging the scars. It still hurt every once in a while, but the wound was healing. He didn't feel ill anymore, and he still couldn't believe that he had actually recovered. But still, he just needed to think about it and everything was back, like it had just happened the day before.

"Now that I think about it, te bite itself was pretty much a picnic compared ta the rest. Felt like when ye pinch yer finger somewhere real hard.  
Besides, fucker didn't exactly rip flesh out. But then?"

He snorted gently and swallowed.

"At first yer shocked as hell. The bite hurts, but the shock won't let ye feel anything. Then ye feel real dizzy and sick.   
Yer lucky if you can stay on yer feet. But then the real shit starts. Like.."

He shook his head.

"Ye can feel it spreading. It's like someone's pumping thick oil in yer veins, only that it is hot, boiling. Imagine that shit flowing all the way up ta yer head. You feel hot, but it's so freaking hot that yer freezing, yer heart is racing and pumping like hell, speeding the whole shit up even more. And when ye think it couldn't get any worse the pain starts. Ye get cramps, real bad stomach cramps like when there's stones and glass in yer guts and that stuff squeezes everything else out. And yer brain hurts, ye can't think straight, and you just want ta rip yer own head off. And when it just can't get any worse then even yer heart can't take it anymore. You can feel it beat faster and slow down, ye can't breathe and then..."

The Irishman closed his eyes and smiled tiredly. He was glad that he didn't have to experience any of it anymore.

"Then it feels like someone hit the back of yer neck with an axe and all the wires between yer brain and body get cut in halves."

Daryl just looked at his friend in surprise, but Connor wouldn't look at him.  
For a moment it looked like the Irishman was terrified all over again, but then he shifted and finally turned his head.

"So yeah. Somebody gets bit ye shouldn't hesitate ta put them outta their misery when they ask ye, too.  
Hell, should that shit ever happen ta me again, give me a bullet any day. 't was literally the most painful experience in me life."

Daryl frowned.

"But yah were asking me not to do it."

Connor nodded.

"Aye. That was after the pain and dying part, when I couldn't feel a thing anymore anyway.  
I just meant that I'm not sure if I could make it through that shit twice."

The hunter snorted and looked at the ceiling again.

"Well, looks like yah don't have to."

Connor snorted as well.

"Why, cos I'm _immune_ or some sorta shit like that?"

"Maybe, and cos I sure ain't gonna let you do shit on yer own again after that epic fail. Seriously, just like I said. No one's dying as long as I'm around, dumbass" he muttered and turned his back on Connor because he didn't want to look at him while saying something as embarrassing as this.

He still hated that he cared so much about the Irishman and that he was so weak in that regard, but he just felt the need to say it. Because it was the truth. After losing Merle and after everything that had happened on the farm this was his new fear and weakness, that he could really lose the Irishman in a blink of an eye. They were kind of used to losing people by now, with Sophia dying, Dale dying, Shane dying and Andrea disappearing, but with Connor it was just too personal, too important.   
  
Especially now that he had spent a couple of weeks with the guy alone. He still had some trouble accepting Connor in his life, but at the same time there was no way he would ever let him turn him into a weeping angry mess again. After losing Sophia and Merle like that it was still his new purpose in life, apart from surviving, to keep the Irishman here, practically force him to stay with him and keep him alive. He heard Connor chuckle and shift behind him, and a couple of seconds later he could feel how his friend wrapped an arm around his waist.

"I ain't going nowhere and I don't plan on dying any time soon, ye grumpy asshole" he muttered and Daryl shifted awkwardly.

"Fuck off" he growled and tried to fight Connor's grip.

The Irishman was getting stronger each day, to a point where he couldn't just fight him off anymore. Although the infection and near death experience had done some damage it had also done him some good, almost brain washed him. Connor wasn't so depressed anymore like back when they had found him over two months ago, and apart from getting better physically he also seemed to get better emotionally each day, which did his strength good in general.   
  
So Daryl lost the fight once more, but not without throwing a fair amount of punches and insults first. He eventually gave up and surrendered, giving the Irishman the opportunity to full on enjoy his whole big-brother-pretending-to-hold-his-dead-little-bro ther ishness.

"Night, Murph" Daryl heard Connor mutter behind him.

He grunted another "Fuck you" but then relaxed. The hunter was still pissed because of the awkwardness of it all and he looked down on himself where he could see his friend's arm. It was the Irishman's uninjured arm, but he still couldn't stop thinking about what he had just heard.  
  
He remembered the look on Connor's face when he had first told him about the bite, how miserable the guy had been, and most of all how much worse it had got in just a couple of hours. He really didn't want to experience it himself after his friend's description, and he also knew that Connor was right. No one should suffer through any of that. And certainly not twice.

"Ain't gonna happen again" he murmured and the Irishman grumbled tiredly.

"Ain't gonna _let_ it happen again."

* * *

"Get a walker."

When Daryl heard those words something in him just snapped. He started kicking and yelling like a mad man, just seeing red. The guard with the long hair had disappeared soon after that command, to get whatever undead monster they had in the cages the woman had been talking about.   
  
The hunter wouldn't stop fighting and screaming, which was why the bald guard let go of Connor and approached him instead. Daryl couldn't understand how something like this could happen to him twice in just a matter of a few days. Once again he was strapped to a chair, and once again he was forced to watch how some sick fucks did something to people that mattered to him.

He couldn't breathe for a second when the guard punched his guts hard, but then the so called Governor spoke up and he was left alone. Daryl was so furious and mad that he couldn't even really understand what the others were talking about, he just stared at his friend's back in front of him and kept fighting, hearing the command over and over again in his head. _Get a walker._ One of those undead monsters was about to burst through that door. He didn't even fear for his own life. It didn't matter. All he could think about was that one conversation he and his friend once had, that terrible night he still hated to think about.

_Why had he told them that Connor was immune? To save him from a bullet. To save his life. And now this?_

He had been given a choice. They were going to kill his best friend in front of his eyes, and they had made him pick how. Not directly, but now that he thought about it, he just knew that this was it. _Guess you don't mind us finishing him off right here and now? Get a walker._ He'd had three options. Number one: get rid of the ties, free Connor, make run for it. But he wasn't strong enough.   
  
Number two: watch how they shot the Irishman in the head. Connor would be dead, but it would have been a painless death. And he had failed because he couldn't let go. And finally: number three: tell some sick bastards that his best friend's blood was unique which would either result in the Irishman's painful and slow death because of a walker or them killing him during some sick tests. And this was the one he had picked, he had made possible.

He had tried to find his big brother and failed to do so. He had tried to find Sophia and failed to bring her home. He had tried to save his best friend's life and actually caused a painful death because of that? No. There was no way he was gonna let that happen. Because he had promised.   
  
So he fought and fought, not only the zip ties but also time, but no matter how hard he fought and how loud he screamed and shouted, it was useless. The Governor and his people were still talking, maybe even sometimes to him, but he didn't care. It was then when the Irishman tried to turn his head and look at him.

"Daryl!" he yelled and tried to turn around even more, but no matter what he did, it was impossible for them to actually look at each other.

"Get a fuckin hold af yerself!" the Irishman spat but his friend wouldn't stop fighting.

"Don't you dare! I'll fucking kill you! One by one!" he roared and looked at the other men who were talking in a corner.

Connor yelled his name once more and Daryl finally shut up.

"Relax, brother. Alright? Everything's gonna be fine!" the Irishman muttered, and when Daryl was just about to say something in return the door opened with a loud bang, revealing a bloody, stinking and growling walking corpse. The undead was fighting air with his bloody fingers, snapping at everyone in the room.   
  
The guard with the long hair was guiding the walker with a stick, a rope was strapped around his neck to keep him at a distance from his leader. For a moment both Connor and Daryl just watched the creature, and when the guard made it move towards the Irishman his friend started yelling all over again.

"No! Leave him alone, you fucker!"

Connor finally seemed to lose it, too.

"Just fuck off! I already told ye! He was lying! I ain't immune!" he spat and the Governor and the others came closer, avoiding the snapping walker as good as possible.

"Sad way to die then, isn't it? What a shame, really" the Governor said and turned his head to look at the long-haired guard.

He nodded and put his hands on his hips.

"Do it."

"No!" Daryl yelled and fought so hard that he knocked his chair over and fell to the ground.

He landed on his side but could still see the others. Connor was sitting there, hands clutched to tight fists behind his back, the Governor, his two guards, the strange professor-like man and the walker opposite him. As soon as the Governor had ordered the guard to go ahead the long-haired man used the stick to shove the walker further towards Connor, who tried to turn away from it.

"Fuck off!" he yelled and turned his head away, but the guard shoved the undead even more.

The walker growled and snarled, but once he got closer to the Irishman he started sniffing and tilted his head.

"I said do it!" the Governor repeated and his guard shoved the walker once more, but the undead didn't seem like it wanted to attack the blonde.

He was inches away from his face and throat and wouldn't stop sniffing on the blood that was already there. It wasn't the first time Daryl saw something like this, but it still freaked him out. Because one of the things that loved to rip people apart and ate them was so close to his friend with its rotten teeth and..Daryl fought the ties again and started kicking.

"Stop it! I lied! 't was all me! I came in here on my own! I killed your people! Now fuck off and get Merle! We can sort this shit out!" he spat, but the others ignored him.

They were way to fascinated by what was happening, how the walker was reacting to the Irishman. Connor still craned his neck as good as he could and tried to keep a certain distance between himself and the undead, because the smell was unbearable. He coughed and tried his hardest not to start throwing up right here and now, and at the same time he tried his hardest not to provoke the undead in any way. Because he had been attacked before and he really wasn't sure what made them snap and what not.

"Get off!" he growled and stared at the men opposite him, who seemed either surprised, shocked or fascinated.

The Governor shifted and looked at the professor-like man next to him.

"Why doesn't it attack him? Got any explanation for this, Milton?"

The other man put a finger on his glasses to move them further up his nose.

"I've got no idea but this is extraordinary. There must be something about his blood that irritates the infected.  
Just look at him, how he tilts his head., how fascinating.."

"And what's that got to do with the bite on his forearm?" the Governor interrupted him and the man shrugged once more.

"Maybe he got infected and survived and now they register him as their own, I don't know.   
But if I could use him as test subject for my research then maybe I could.."

The other man stepped forward and grabbed the stick from the guard to guide the walker himself.

"Stop it or I swear yer gonna lose another eye, yah cripple!" Daryl spat and managed to crawl a couple of inches, the chair still strapped to his legs, arms and back.

Connor's chest was heaving now that the walker was still so close to him and seemed to get more aggressive with every minute that passed. Truth be told, for the first time he actually _was_ scared during torture, because he knew what kind of pain the undead could bring. He didn't want to end up like this, didn't want to die, despite the fact that he had stormed in here with the intention to die to save Daryl.  
  
He didn't even know what he had been thinking when he had turned his back on Rick on the others. Maybe he had imagined it as some kind of heroism. Connor MacManus to the rescue. The guy who saved Daryl Dixon from a town full of crazies. Connor MacManus, who had stormed in here, bullets flying and killing as many evil bastards as possible and before he went down with a bang. And now this.

"Listen.. I can tell ye everything yah need ta know about this. Let's...let's just take it easy, aye? No need ta..."

The Governor shoved and kicked the walker hard and without any warning. Connor was mid sentence when the undead suddenly lunged out and stumbled right into him with a loud snarl, sinking his teeth in the Irishman's shoulder. The sentence finished with an agonized scream and the kicking of feet, desperately trying to fight the attacker off. Daryl's screams mixed with the ones of his friend as he was forced to watch how the undead sunk his teeth in the blonde's shoulder.

"NO! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" he screamed and fought so hard that he finally managed to free his legs.

The bald guy approached him then to hold him steady, and before the walker got the chance to rip some flesh out of Connor's shoulder the Governor was already on him, grabbing the undead to get him off the man. The Irishman was still screaming and yelping in sheer agony, but the Governor ignored all the screams that filled the room. He handed the walker over to one of his guards because he had other plans for the undead, and once he had made sure that they were gone he looked at Connor again.  
  
He took a closer look at the damage, the ripped shirt and all the blood, because the wound was bleeding heavily. The Irishman was getting tired and was in shock, but he still managed to croak a weak string of insults, which were matching Daryl's. The Governor placed a finger on the wound which made the blonde yelp again, then he turned around with blood on the tip of his finger. He took a look at it and seemed lost in thoughts for a moment. When he looked at Milton again he seemed both pleased but at the same time completely calm and emotionless, despite all the chaos around him.

"Take him to the lab, see what the infection does. Take your samples, do your test. I think this bite will do."

He turned around to look at his prisoners. Connor was still coughing and wailing in pain, and Daryl was still yelling and fighting the other guard.

"No! I'll fucking kill you!" he kept repeating over and over again, but soon the anger in his voice was replaced with terror and desperation.

"Shut up...don't make it worse..'s alright, brother. I...got it covered. Can't die..remember" his friend croaked but he was quickly losing his conciousness because of the injury and shock. The Governor approached the injured again and grabbed his face to take a closer look at him.

"Take the other one outside. The arena. We'll keep this one" he said and made the Irishman look him in the eye.

"Looks like you're the miracle we need."

Connor blinked a few times and gasped because of the sheer pain in his shoulder.

"Fuck you" he muttered and blinked once more.

He could hear Daryl raging behind him as the two guards freed his friend from the chair and forced him to get up.  
He believed to hear how the hunter yelled his name a couple of times, then everything went black.

* * *

He could hear the cheers and muttering of a crowd. The two guards were holding him tight by his arms, and no matter how hard he fought and kicked, they wouldn't let go. Daryl couldn't see. He probably would have called it the worst part, but right now it didn't feel like that at all. He was glad that the bag was covering his face, because this way no one could see. For the first time in a very long time he was actually crying. Because he was terrified. Because he couldn't see. Because all he had left were his thoughts and the sounds, and it were the thoughts that were the worst.

Daryl couldn't get the image out of his head. The walker, lunging out. Connor, strapped to that damned chair. Back in the old days when the Irishman had first told him how he had lost his twin he had never been able to understand it. What it felt like to have to watch something like this. What it felt like to be there, so close, and yet not being able to stop it. But now he understood why it had haunted his friend like that, tortured him in his sleep. Because now he had experienced it himself, what if felt like to watch how a loved one got bit.

The cheers got louder with every step they shoved him further ahead and it terrified the hunter even more. He tried to think about anything that could calm him down a bit. Cherokee Roses. Carol. Little Ass-Kicker. A hunt. The fact that he was Daryl Dixon. That he wasn't supposed to cry and be scared. There had to be something to keep him strong, to keep him from panicking.   
  
He tried to think of Connor's jokes and stories, he even imagined all the beautiful Irish landscapes his friend had told him about. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to hunt there. He thought of the feeling of smoke filling his lungs, and quiet nights outside. Hell, right now he even wanted that stupid arm and leg wrapped around him, the warm breeze of breath on the back of his neck that always both annoyed and embarrassed the crap out of him every night because the stupid leprechaun didn't know what the hell personal space was during sleeping.

_Relax, brother. Alright? Everything's gonna be fine._

The sound of Connor's voice in his head made it even worse. Because he knew he had failed. The images of roses and children and woods and tents and the faces of the people in his group and this stupid blonde guy with tattoos quickly got replaced with the images of blood and agony.   
  
He could still hear his screams, see the blood, the injury, the walker. He remembered that godless night when he had watched his friend die, all the pain and loss that had been going on there, remembered the images that had burned themselves in his head when Connor had told him about what a bite felt like.

_No one should suffer through any of that. And certainly not twice. Ain't gonna let it happen again._

There had been a reason why he had been so hostile towards the blonde at first, back when they had found him in that church and taken him with them. He had never wanted to care, never wanted to let anyone in. Because he knew what it meant. Sooner or later you were going to lose them. He had seen it over and over again. And the more you loved them and cared about them the more it _hurt_.   
  
And if there was one thing in life that he hated more than anything then it was pain. Because pain meant you were weak. Because people made you weak. Because Connor had made him weak, because weakness resulted in failure. And he had failed. Oh how he had failed. His plan had failed, gone so terribly _terribly_ wrong.

He had never wanted to choose, and he knew that he never would have been able to choose. He had come here to see his brother, maybe get him back, but in the end he would have returned to Connor. _And now this_. Someone else had made the decision for him, and that was the worst part. It didn't make it any better, any easier. His plan had gone wrong and now his best friend was hurt because of that, maybe even dying, but he was certain about one thing: the blonde was in pure agony right now.   
  
And that was his fault. He had run off thinking Connor wouldn't go after him. He had told them about the bite, the immunity. Never had he wanted anything like this. He had just been a little brother trying to see his big brother one more time. And here he was. Separated from his friend, his weapon, his sight, his dignity. Daryl Dixon, was a terrified, shaking, crying, mourning mess.

When he thought it couldn't get any worse he could hear how the muttering was getting really loud now, and after walking a couple of more steps he was shoved away.

"This is one of the terrorists" he heard the Governor say and wanted to be furious.

This was the man who had tortured his friend, used him as test object. This was the man who had put a bag on his head and humiliated him. He wanted to snap at him and kick him, throw punches and insults around like the way he was used to, but right now he couldn't. Because all the cheering and muttering was scaring the shit out of him, because he could feel the presence of a large crowd around him. Living people, the worst monsters of them all. So he staggered around like a wounded terrified dog, but then the Governor grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Merle's own brother!" he announced and grabbed the bag on the hunter's head.

Daryl had thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse, but when he could finally see what was going on he couldn't breathe for a second. For over a year he had been thinking about that man, looking for him, feeling guilty and ashamed because of him. Because of this man he had also cried and shouted at the world on a rooftop in Atlanta, and here he was.   
  
Right in front of him. Utter surprise and disbelief written all over his face. A strange device was wrapped around his right arm, and the man eyed the shouting and cheering crowd all around them. Daryl looked at his big brother in pure shock, swallowing hard and trying to hide the fact that he was crying and terrified.

So many emotions rushed through him.

Relief, because he finally, _finally_ , had his big brother back.  
Fear, because after so many years he was still terrified of the man, his constant insults, his punches, his obsessive behavior.  
Disbelief, because after so many months of searching he couldn't possibly be just standing there right in front of him.  
Guilt, because he was still glad to see him, and he hated the fact that it felt like he was glad Connor had been replaced with Merle, that the Irishman was suffering just so he could have his real big brother back. Feeling glad that Merle was there made him feel like he was stabbing the Irishman's back at the same time.  
And last but not least: sheer panic, because he had no idea how to get out of this alive.

The crowd around him was aggressive, there were even more guards with pistols and weapons all around them, and the Governor looked more terrifying than ever because of the bandage and floodlights. Daryl wanted to be strong, wanted to be that aggressive cussing asshole he always was when Connor was around, but right now he couldn't. He didn't have a plan. The man with the plans was gone, his hands were tied, there were people all around him, so he did the only thing he could do. He stayed weak and looked at Merle, begging his big brother with his eyes. _Do something. Please, brother. Get me out of this. Help me._

But Merle seemed just as petrified. The Governor turned around to look at all the people and stretched his arms out.

"What should we do with them, huh?"

The crowd went wild.

"Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!" they yelled, a few shouting insults, a few shouting instructions, but they all seemed to agree.

Woodbury wanted the Dixon brothers dead.


	32. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 9 " _The Suicide King_ "

The shouting and cheering was slowly driving him insane. Not only because it scared him, but also because it was annoying and ridiculous. He could hear how the crowd kept yelling "Kill them! Kill them!" in all sorts of pitches, which made them sound even more insane. Especially the women around him were going crazy, blood thirst and aggression written all over their faces. One voice caught his attention then, because the pleas were so different and he actually recognized the voice.

"Let him go! He's my friend!" one woman shouted, and when Daryl turned his head in her direction he could see that it was Andrea.

_What was going on in this place? First Merle, now Andrea, how many of his people were here for god's sakes?  
And most of all, why did he still feel so helpless?_

"It's not up to me anymore. The people have spoken" the Governor answered and looked at the Dixon brothers.

Daryl had to keep looking at his brother, too. Because he still couldn't believe that Merle was really there.  
Because he wanted, no because he _needed_ him to do something, to get them out of this mess.  
The Governor suddenly pointed at his brother.

"I asked you where your loyalties lie" he said and Daryl startled when he felt how one of the guards grabbed his arms again.

He tried to fight the man off, but after a couple of seconds he realized that he was actually freeing him off his cuffs. As soon as they were gone Daryl clenched his hands to tight fists and swung them around, relieved because he was finally free to move again. More or less. The younger Dixon adjusted his clothes and looked at the angry mob again, trying to make out some sort of exit. But it was hopeless. They were surrounded and trapped. He looked at the Governor again when the man went on with his speech.

"You said here. Well, prove it. Prove it to us all."

The hunter tensed when the leader of Woodbury stared right at him with his piercing remaining eye. He hated the guy, but at the same time he actually feared him. He knew what he was capable of, and how fucked up he really was. He had just seen it a couple of minutes ago when he had..Daryl gritted his teeth and tried not to think about it, but in the end he failed miserably.   
  
_How was the stupid leprechaun right now? Where was he? Even if they managed to get out of this mess, how was he supposed to get Connor out of here as well?_ He didn't even really know where they had brought his friend, and most of all, what kind of condition he was in. The Irishman had been bit, and there had been a whole lot more blood than last time. He remembered that night, how quickly things had changed and how fast the infection had spread.  
  
In just a couple of hours it had knocked him out _completely_ , and Connor hadn't been able to stay on his feet for _days_. Daryl still cursed himself for his stupid idea. Of course, he was happy to have found Merle again. Blood's blood after all. But this? He hadn't wanted it to go downside like this. The Governor spoke again and snapped him out of it.

"Brother against brother. Winner goes free" he said and the crowd got louder again.

"Fight. To the death!" the Governor yelled and Woodbury went crazy.

They were yelling at the Dixon brothers again, and it felt like Daryl's heart just stopped because of the surprise and shock. He could feel how Merle was looking at him, and maybe he was thinking the same, but the younger didn't really know. His brother had beaten him many times before, and he really could give him a _proper_ beating. Daryl had always lost their fights, had always walked out with a whole bunch of bruises and in pain, so if they were really going to make them fight to the death then he just knew that he wouldn't stand a chance.

"No, please. Don't do this. Don't do this!" the hunter heard Andrea yell and looked at her for a second.

He still didn't get why she was here all of a sudden, and why she really thought that she could influence these bunch of crazies. Her pleas were ignored and Daryl looked at his brother again. Both Dixons looked at each other for a while, and the younger of the two ended up pleading the other with his eyes to get them out of this, but Merle just raised his hand and turned around to look at the crowd of people all around them.

"Y'all know me. I'm gonna do whatever I gotta do" he yelled and Daryl tensed.

"To prove ..."

The younger Dixon had expected the punch, but he still couldn't hold back a loud grunt. Merle had punched him hard in the stomach, and for a moment he couldn't breathe because all the air had left his lungs when his brother's fist connected with his belly. The incredible pain made the younger of the two men fall down. The hunter curled himself up on the dirty and dusty ground. When he could finally breathe again he sucked in all the air he could get, but just a second later Merle was on him again.

"That my loyalty" he yelled and kicked Daryl hard.

"Is to this town!" the older Dixon exclaimed and the crowd went wild.

The other man tried to roll away from the attacks, and for a second he almost passed out because of the lack of air and incredible pain in his ribs and stomach. The worst part wasn't even the pain, it were Merle's intentions that he was worried about, because he seriously couldn't tell what his brother was on about. _Was Merle trying to buy them time by pleasing the crowds? Or was he really out to kill him? He couldn't really do that, could he? They were brothers after all._ But then again, this wasn't the first time.  
  
He had been about to die before, when his father had almost killed him and Merle hadn't moved a single finger to help him because he had been too busy minding his own business. _But could he seriously kill him to get his sorry ass out of here?_ The younger Dixon endured several of the punches and kicks as he tried to understand what was going on and how he was supposed to react.   
  
Part of him was reminded of that day when they had found Sophia dead and he had been punching and trying to kill Connor like this. How ironic it really was. Now he was the one being used as a punching bag. The only difference between him and the Irishman was that he sure as hell didn't _want_ to get killed now. Daryl grunted hard as he tried to get up, and soon all of Merle's punches and kicks made him so angry that he had enough.

He lunged out and punched his brother's face hard and just as mercilessly. The older Dixon stumbled away and held his jaw in surprise, and Daryl used the opportunity to get back up on his feet again. This was when both brothers finally realized that the guards had brought several of their walkers on sticks, and they were slowly closing in on them.  
  
Daryl identified one of the walkers as the one that had bit his friend, and he was even more shocked when he saw that there was still blood all over his mouth and throat from this very attack. The younger Dixon clenched his fits even tighter because this made him extremely angry. _He needed to get out of here. He needed to find this stupid asshole_.

When the hunter turned around he could see that his brother was still busy staring at the walkers, so he didn't waste a second and ran for him to attack him. Right then Merle decided to turn around again and had no trouble tackling his younger half to the ground, and before Daryl knew what was going on he could feel how a very strong hand was placed on his throat and squeezed _tight_. The hunter grew desperate because of the lack of air and all the walkers that were coming closer and closer, so he did the only thing he could think of in this moment, and that was getting back to reasoning with his brother.

"You really think this asshole's gonna let you go?!" he grunted and stared Merle straight in his eyes.

_Stop it. Killing me won't change a thing. I ain't gonna die today._

He put both his hands on Merle's throat and squeezed even tighter than the other man, having an obvious advantage with his _two_ hands.

"Just follow my lead, little brother. We're getting out of this" Merle answered although he could hardly breathe and Daryl finally had the answer.

His brother didn't want to kill him.  
He was really trying to buy them time, which they certainly needed with all those undead around them.

"Right now!" the older Dixon suddenly yelled and pulled his brother back up so they could face the other enemies back to back.

They didn't have any weapons, no knives, no guns, no crossbow, and that made the whole thing even more terrifying than it already was. Three walkers were shoved in their direction, and once again Daryl thought it was incredibly ironic that he was now facing the walker that had bit Connor.   
  
The Dixon brothers started shoving, punching and kicking the undead that were trying to attack them, and especially the hunter was extremely fierce. He welcomed the idea that he finally got the chance to let the rotten bastard suffer for what he had done to his friend, so he kept punching and kicking as hard as he could.

Part of him felt disgusted whenever his fists connected with the rotten and infected flesh, but the other part of him seriously didn't even care anymore. This was life and death, this was brutality and fighting. Daryl let out an angry cry as he shoved the walker back towards the crowd, hoping that he would attack someone just like he had attacked the Irishman. Even though he knew that he was probably gonna die any second now he actually enjoyed that he was getting some sort of revenge, and he certainly wouldn't go down without one hell of a fight.

He and his brother were really getting into the whole thing when a loud gunshot startled everyone and made one of the walkers fall to the ground. The cheering ended and changed into a collection of loud and terrified screams, then more gunshots rained down on them. Now not only the walkers and guards were falling to the ground, but also members of the crowd. Both Daryl and Merle ducked down, driven by instinct, and although the younger of the two was scared that he might get hit himself he couldn't help but let out a happy snort.

 _Maybe this was Connor? Maybe he had managed to get out and maybe he was trying to get him out of this mess as well?_ It had to be one of his group, and he was pretty sure that it was the Irishman because he was the only one who knew that he was here in this arena. Several of the floodlights went out with a loud bang and sparks of light were raining down on them. Daryl was a bit confused when he saw how a flashbang exploded behind the crowd, and the whole arena was filled with smoke in a matter of seconds.

Smoke and the sound of automatic rifles told him that it had to be Rick and the others, which was also a good sign, but did it also mean that Connor was there?  
Daryl looked around and searched their surroundings to see what was going on and who was shooting, but he couldn't see a damn thing.

"Come on, little brother! Stay close!" he heard Merle yell and tried to do as he was told, but then he heard how someone in the crowd was yelling his name. At first he thought that it was his friend, but then he realized that the voice was too high to be Connor's. It was a woman's voice, so he suspected that it was Andrea.  
  
He didn't exactly have time for her right now, and he didn't even know if they could trust her anymore. Merle was busy killing a walker behind him, and he used the metal stump on his arm like an expert to crush his skull. People were running about all around them, and the younger Dixon knew that they needed to use this sort of chaos and all the smoke around them for their escape.

"Merle! Come on!" he demanded and made his brother stop.

Both Dixons started running without really knowing where they were supposed to run, because the smoke was so thick that they could hardly see a thing.  
Daryl nudged his brother when he saw the repeated movement of a flashlight to their left, and he just knew that it had to be his group.

"This way!"

They had almost reached the exit when Daryl caught glimpse of his own crossbow, which a large African-American was holding and using to shoot the escaped walkers. The hunter couldn't believe that someone even dared to touch his beloved weapon, so he ran for the man and grabbed it, using the element of surprise to throw him to the ground with a hard shove.  
  
Merle did the rest of the job, as he approached the guard and punched him hard in the face to knock him out. His younger brother turned around and couldn't fight a pleased smirk, but when he saw that the smoke was fading he decided to keep running, especially now that they were so close to the exit.

"Let's go!" he yelled and Merle finally followed him.

"Daryl!"they could hear Rick yell and a second later he could see him and Maggie, who was hiding behind one of the large dumpsters by the exit.

The hunter had been happy and relieved first because this was their escape, but then his face fell when he saw that it were just the two of them.  
Daryl came to an abrupt halt and stared at them.

"Where are the others? That weirdo woman? Glenn? Connor?"

"We haven't got time for this! Let's go! Let's go!" the former policeman urged him and started running as well.

Merle was far ahead.

"Daryl!" he yelled again and the younger Dixon turned his head in shock, trying to scan the area for his friend.

"Where's that stupid leprechaun? He was with me when they caught us and then they took him outta there and dragged me here! Did he come back?"

"Let's get out of here first!" Rick hissed and eyed their surroundings with a worried look on his face.

Most of the Woodbury citizens had disappeared by now, and the chaos and smoke was fading.  
They needed to leave or they could get caught any second now.

"Did he come back?" Daryl yelled and the former policeman finally paid attention to what the hunter was actually saying.

"No. Listen, Daryl. We gotta get out of here first. We'll talk later."

Daryl turned around to search the surrounding area once more, but neither Connor nor Andrea were anywhere in sight.

"I ain't leaving without him, we gotta go back. 's all my fault he got stuck in here."

He bit his lip and looked in the general direction of the main street.

"You leave. I'm going back."

"Y'all gonna have cake and coffee now? Move your asses you buncha pussies! We ain't got time and I sure ain't going back in there!" they heard Merle yell and turned their heads to look at him. This was when Daryl remembered what they had said when they had taken his friend away, and since they didn't have time he tried to explain things to Rick as fast as possible.

"They caught us and questioned us in the room where they put Glenn in. I told 'em about the immunity thing. They made a walker bite him, said they wanted to take him to some sorta lab to run a few tests and take blood samples" he explained so fast that the man opposite him could hardly understand him.

"How do you know that he's still alive?" Maggie asked and Daryl frowned angrily.

"We can't just leave him here! Yah came back for me, didn'tcha? We gotta go back, man."

Merle ran back to them to see what was going on. One could sense that he was extremely pissed.

"Come on!"

Both Rick and Daryl looked at each other for a second longer, then they both turned their heads and looked at the older Dixon brother.

"You know where their lab is?"

* * *

They entered the corridor as quietly and carefully as possible. Well, Daryl, Rick and Maggie did so at least. Merle wouldn't stop cursing and calling them names as they made their way to the room which this strange Milton guy used as his personal office and laboratory. Rick and Maggie were trying to shut Merle up. Daryl would have done it himself because only he knew how to control his brother, but right now he couldn't even speak because he didn't know what to feel like.   
  
_What was waiting inside this room? Was his friend still alive or had he really died this time? Had they killed him? Had they strapped him to some freak bed and cut him open like a lab rat?_ He prepared himself for the worst, because he had experienced what those crazy town people were capable of. He knew that he was probably going to lose it in a couple of minutes, and part of him didn't even want to go in there.

He knew that they needed to leave, and he knew that they were relying on borrowed time here. Perhaps it would have been best to just turn their backs on Woodbury. _Connor was lost anyway, wasn't he?_ The guy sure had lost a lot of blood by now. And the infection was probably frying his insides right now. Perhaps it would have been better for both of them to just leave him here.   
  
The Irishman could finally die and get some peace, and he would try to remember him the way he had last seen him before this ugly bite. He didn't even want to go through that whole thing all over again. The waiting, the watching his friend suffer, the hoping that he would survive. _Besides. What was the point?_ _He had Merle now, didn't he? So why was he doing this to himself now?_  
  
The answer was simple. Because he owed Connor. Because it was his fault, and because he still didn't want to let him go. Merle there or not. So the hunter kept walking and lead the small group to the other side of the corridor, where a dark and old door was waiting to be opened, waiting to reveal something that might tear him apart all over again.

The closer he got the slower he walked because he still wasn't really prepared for what could happen next, but the others behind him wouldn't give him a chance. They urged him to keep going. Daryl startled when he was suddenly showed out of the way and his brother darted forward to kick the door open. He didn't have any time for the whole worrying luxury, so the hunter grabbed his crossbow to be ready to shoot anyone that got in their way. All the more did it surprise him when the group entered the room and found...nothing.

Milton, the professor-like man Daryl had met earlier, was lying on the ground right next to the bed, his glasses crooked and broken. He was either dead or unconscious, and more importantly: all on his own. It was obvious that there had been a fight going on in here. Some lamps and medical instruments had been knocked over and fallen to the ground. The sheets on the bed next to him were a complete mess and bloody, and the bed was empty. There was a lot of blood on the ground and Milton was the only one in the room.  
  
Connor was gone.


	33. Cracked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 9 " _The Suicide King_ "

The smell of fresh coffee woke him up. It wasn't like he hated coffee, he just didn't like to smell it after waking up because then it would always make him nauseous. Especially when he had a headache like the killer one he was having now. Connor groaned and shifted, only to realize that he was lying in some sort of bed. _Where the hell was he? What had happened?_ For a second he seriously couldn't remember a damn thing. When he opened his eyes some sort of light was blinding him and made the pain in his head even worse, so the blonde MacManus placed a hand on his eyes and groaned once more.

"Fuck.." he muttered and startled when someone spoke up.

"Good morning, princess."

It took Connor just about a split second to sit up and look in the direction where he had heard the voice. He hissed when he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder and neck, but even that wouldn't stop him from looking at the person opposite him. He got even more confused and terrified when he recognized the room, all the trash, the battered furniture and...he turned his head to the right and ignored the incredible pain in his shoulder only to find the filthy toilet right where it had always been.

"What the..."

He turned his head to look at the other man in the room again, who turned out to be his twin brother.

"What the..what the fuck?! Murph?"

His younger half was standing there in their kitchen, leaned against the counter and with a mug of coffee and a cigarette in his hands.  
The dark-haired MacManus seemed both rather confused and amused by his brother's behavior.

"Aye? Who else did ye expect?" he answered and frowned.

Both brothers looked at each other for a while and Connor got even more confused. Everything looked exactly like he remembered. Their filthy apartment, the smell, the noise outside. When he raised his head to have a look outside their long and high windows he could see that it was a sunny day, and there it was, the Boston skyline and...

"Jaysus, I knew ye were wasted yesterday, but look atcha" Murphy said and chuckled.

Connor looked at his brother again with wide eyes.

"You look like ye've seen a ghost or somethin" his younger half muttered and took another sip on his coffee.

He took a drag on his cigarette after that and headed for their fridge.

"Beer?"

Connor frowned even more and rubbed his aching shoulder and neck. He looked at his hand because he was sure that there was supposed to be blood on it, but there was nothing. The blonde felt his chest and raised an eyebrow when he saw that there was a bandage on his left forearm. He was so confused. _Wasn't he supposed to be scared or something? Wasn't he under some sort of mortal threat?_  
  
He knew that something dangerous was waiting for him, that something big had happened, but he seriously couldn't remember what. Murphy snapped him out of it when he nudged him with a bottle, and Connor startled so hard and grabbed his brother's wrist so fast that it made his other half just as confused.

"Connor, what the fuck. Stop that bullshit now, that ain't funny anymore."

The blonde looked at his twin and noticed a long band-aid on his neck, that went all the way down his shoulder and disappeared underneath his shirt. He let go of his brother and Murphy retreated.

"What happened ta you, Murph?" the older of the two asked and the other snorted.

"That asshole seriously gave ye one hell offa beating yesterday, didn't he?"

Murphy sat down on one of their chairs by the table and took another drag on his cigarette.  
Connor rubbed his forehead and moved his fingers through his messy hair.

"Seriously, Con. What the fuck's up with ye. Yer white as a fucking sheet."

The older snorted and shook his head.  
Some very disturbing images were coming back, and he slowly remembered why he had been so freaked out when he had woken up.

"I just had the weirdest fuckin dream ever."

"Like what?" the other muttered and scratched the band-aid on his neck.

Connor shook his head once more.

"Fuckin ridiculous. Dead people walking and eating each other, then they got ye and bit you and I was all alone, nearly killed myself and then I met some dude who had yer face. Like a fucking horror movie that was."

Murphy snorted.

" Well that part about you nearly fucking killing yerself is true" he growled and Connor frowned.

"What?"

His younger half raised an eyebrow.

"Ye seriously don't remember?"

Connor narrowed his eyes.

"Do I fucking look like it?"

"Oh fuck ye, yer the one acting like a fucking weirdo, stop bitching at me, asshole" the other man answered and threw an empty Pepsi can at his brother.

He missed Connor, who wouldn't stop staring at him, so the younger of the two started talking.

"We were down at McGinty's yesterday and had a buncha beers. Then some asshole knocked mine over. He 'n I got into a fight and I was about ta win when this fucker drew a knife and cut me. I was bleeding like a gutted pig and then you lost it and beat the guy ta a pulp. But he managed ta bite yer arm and shoved yah into tha bar and ye nearly broke yer fucking neck there. Liam and the others kicked the fucker out."

Murphy chuckled and rubbed his injured neck.

"But jesus, we were seriously fucking hammered tha time. No wonder ye can't remember a damn thing."

Connor sighed and fell back down on his bed to stare at the ceiling. He vaguely remembered the biting part because it had freaking _hurt_ , but other than that he recalled absolutely nothing. It kind of made sense, though. The biting, the injury on Murphy's shoulder, the pain in his own, the whole dead men walking part because he had probably beaten the guy so hard that he had left the pub half dead. _So why had his mind come up with some seriously fucked up shit instead?_

"I'm sorry for the bite. It looks like you might not make it through this."

Connor frowned and turned his head to look at his brother.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Murphy frowned.

"Didn' fuckin say anything."

The older MacManus narrowed his eyes and watched his brother smoke. It seemed to annoy his younger half.

"What?!"

"Ye said I might not make it through this. Through what?"

The dark-haired twin frowned even more.

"Are yah fucking insane? I didn't say anything!"

Connor turned his head and stared at the ceiling with an angry frown.

_Why was it so fucking hot in this room anyway?_

He tried to get rid of his blanket but was surprised when he suddenly couldn't move.

"102 degrees. If it keeps rising like that we might lose him."

"What are ye fucking talking about? Stop that shit now, Murph."

" I said I didn't fuckin say anything!"

The older MacManus turned his head again to look at his brother, who didn't look annoyed but worried this time.

"Seriously, what te fuck's wrong with you, man? _You_ stop that shit!"

Connor tried to fight the blanket once more because the heat was practically frying him in his bed, only to discover that he really couldn't move at all.

"I can't move, 's what's fucking wrong with me!"

Murphy finally seemed to get that his brother really wasn't trying to have him on this time, so the younger MacManus twin got up to see what was going on.

"Let me see yer arm" he said and approached him.

Connor kept struggling although it felt like some sort of invisible force was holding him down and forcing him to stay in this godforsaken bed.

"Stop struggling and let me see yer fucking arm!" Murphy yelled and grabbed his twins left forearm.

Connor yelped when he felt a sharp pain in the crook of his arm like someone was pricking him with a needle.

"Ow! Fucking stop that!"

"I didn't do anything, jesus, calm the fuck down!"

The Irishman saw a flicker of lights for a second and the whole scenery changed. For just a moment he was lying in some sort of dark and cluttered room, and there was someone standing there right next to his brother. A man in his late thirties/early forties and a pair of glasses, and that freaked the older MacManus out.

"Let go of me, you sick bastard!" he yelled at him and fought the invisible force once more.

He blinked a few times and the scenery changed again. He was now staring at his brother, who looked horrified and confused.

"Did yer just call me "sick bastard?" I'm just trying t'help ye! 's me! Murphy!"

Connor widened his eyes and searched their apartment in horror.

"I swear ta fucking god, there was some freak standing right next t'you just a second ago."

Murphy turned around just to make sure, but they were all alone in the room. He turned his head to look at his brother again, who was losing it more and more.

"Alright, alright. It looks like tha fucker hit yer head pretty hard yest.."

"No one fucking hit me!" Connor yelled and received a hard slap from his twin.

This was all it took to snap him out of this horrifying state. The blonde MacManus sucked in as much air as he could and opened his eyes wide. The ceiling above his head was no longer the one he remembered, it was a strange new one that he didn't know. He could feel that he was bathed in sweat and that his right shoulder was sticky with something that smelled like blood, and when he turned his head he could see the man with the glasses again. He was all too familiar with the way he felt. It was like the farm all over again. His whole body burned with nothing but pain, it was so hot that it was freezing, and he felt terribly, terribly sick.

He remembered it all now. How he had been cuffed to some chair, this freak everyone called the Governor in front of him with a walker between them, how the undead had lashed out and sunk his teeth into his neck. He remembered the sick crunching and ripping sound and the hot and wet wave of blood which had soaked his t-shirt, and he could remember all the screams.   
  
His own, but most importantly Daryl's. He tried to turn his head in the other direction to search the room for his friend, but there was no one there except for two guards and the professor weirdo. All sorts of strange things were stuffed in the room, a miniature of a town, several pictures and small machines, old furniture and a whole bunch of medical instruments. Scalpels, syringes, scissors. He felt like he was trapped in Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory.

 _Did he still have all his body parts and guts?_ He tried to wriggle his toes and move his fingers, but he could hardly feel a thing because of the incredible pain in his shoulder. He was vaguely aware of the fact that there were ties that strapped his arms and legs to the bed, and that freaked him out even more. But that wasn't even the worst part. He couldn't believe that he had been bit. _Again_. And he knew how much worse it was going to get in a couple of hours. He craned his neck to search for an exit and let out a soft sigh of relief when he found it.

"Oh my god, he's awake! H..hello?"

Connor turned his head to look at the man who had just talked to him.

"Oh thank god, I thought you were pretty much dead. My name's Milton. Milton Mament. I didn't catch yours when we met..."

The Irishman gritted his teeth and tried to fight his restraints but without any luck.

"Let me go" he grunted and gave the man a death glare.

The other got up with a sigh and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but that's not my decision to make. Besides, you are in no condition to leave this room and we still have a lot of research to do with you. I took care of your bite wound. It wasn't too deep, but deep enough that it needed stitches. I took a couple of blood samples from the injury itself and from the arm that got infected before."

Connor frowned angrily when he noticed the couple of phials in the man's hands that were obviously filled with blood. The Irishman widened his eyes in surprise and looked down on his arm only to see a white piece of cloth which had been stuck to the crook of his arm, and there was a red spot right in the middle of it.

"You didn't get my fucking permission ta do this! Now lemme go or I swear, 'm gonna fuckin kill..."

Connor couldn't keep yelling because of terrible wave of sickness rushed over him. He hated that an infection with the virus would always end with this, the incredibly disgusting throwing up of blood and anything that was left inside of him. Milton hurried back to offer the Irishman a trashcan so he wouldn't ruin the floor. For a second Connor was actually grateful because he was quite disgusted by the whole thing himself, but when he realized that there was nothing but blood coming out his mouth anyway he got an idea.   
  
He raised his head slightly to get a look at Milton, who was watching him with both a worried and at the same time fascinated look in his face. He saw that the man was wearing rubber gloves because he was obviously scared of a possible infection, and Connor used the opportunity since Milton was so close to him now. He gathered all the remaining blood in his mouth and spit it right in the man's face, careful to hit his mouth and maybe his eyes.

He knew that he couldn't infect and kill people with his blood, Daryl had come into direct contact with him after the first bite after all and he was still alive. Probably. But Milton didn't know about this yet, and maybe the spitting attack and blood would freak him out so much that Connor would get some more time.   
  
The Irishman did get the reaction he had aimed for. The man seemed horrified and wiped his face in a hurry and complete and utter shock, and despite all the pain and the sickness Connor still felt pleased and couldn't fight a satisfied grin.

"How 'bout ye run some tests on yerself then, asshole" he muttered and took a deep breath because a new wave of pain rushed over him.

The two guards were running for them and the Irishman prepared himself for a couple of painful punches.

"Wait!" Milton shouted and stopped them.

"He's infected! Don't touch him!"

The other two men eyed Milton and then Connor, who was currently struggling to get over another nausea attack.  
When they saw how unstable the injured Irishman really was they finally nodded and withdrew again, and Milton started walking as well.

"I...I've got to clean myself up" he muttered and soon started running for the door.

A second later they could hear loud screams and gunshots outside.  
All three remaining men turned their heads to look at the door, then the two guards looked at each other.

"Holy shit!" said one of them and nudged the other.

He grabbed his gun and started running for the door, but the other guard called after him.

"Wait up, Tony, what 'bout him?!" he shouted and pointed at Connor.

The man named Tony looked at the Irishman and snorted.

"He ain't going nowhere. Look at him. He's all tied up!"

More shots. More screams. The other guard finally gave in and started running as well. They closed the door with a loud bang and for a second the Irishman just stared at it in surprise. He was pretty sure that the shooting was coming from his own people. Rick. Glenn. Maggie. So they had come back here as well. He was sure that they were there to rescue Daryl. _Where the hell had they brought him again?_ Connor tried to concentrate, but he couldn't remember it.   
  
It felt like the fever was slowly eating his brain, and his mind was racing. He knew that this was his only chance to get out of this. Soon he wouldn't have the strength to free himself, and he would either die here or recover again, and he was pretty sure that they would kill him sooner or later anyway. When they didn't need him or his blood anymore. _This is your only chance_ , he thought and looked down on himself to take a closer look at the restraints. They were made of leather, not metal, which was definitively a good sign. They had been strapped around his wrists and ankles, and Connor was relieved when he felt that they weren't too tight either.

"Alright. Alright" he muttered and took a deep breath, while trying to concentrate on a specific pattern on the ceiling.

He knew that this was going to hurt, but it wasn't like he wasn't in much pain right now anyway. Besides, this wasn't the first time someone had tied him to something, right? All he needed to do now was pull. He remembered what his uncle had taught him and Murphy, so he pressed the thumb of his left hand to his palm as good as he could. He needed to make his hand as small as possible so it could fit through the restraints, but he knew that he was probably going to break a couple of bones anyway.  
  
It was just his left hand, though, wasn't it? It wasn't his good hand, he needed the right one for shooting and fighting later, although his shoulder was pretty much done anyway. The Irishman bit his bottom lip and started yanking his left arm up hard and abruptly, hoping to loosen the ties a bit. Soon it started to hurt and he bit his lip even harder, but he couldn't hold back a pained grunt.

 _Why wouldn't this stupid thing just give in already?_ He cursed his bones for being so goddamn robust. Back when those Russians had attacked him those things hadn't given in, too. No broken bones, no broken wrists except for a few cuts, but he had torn the toilet to bits. But this bed wasn't a toilet, and these ties weren't made of porcelain but leather, and _damn_ they were tight. His time was running out, so Connor pulled even more violently until he finally heard a reassuring and yet painful crack.   
  
A sharp and hot pain rushed through his hand and then he was free. For a second the Irishman couldn't breathe because of the pain in his fingers and he even let out a painfilled moan. He looked at his abused hand and was pretty sure that his thumb and a couple of more bones were broken, but he still needed to use it to get rid of the tie around his other wrist. Although the pain got even worse when he moved it and used it to grab the leather strap on the other side Connor still managed to free his right arm.

When he sat up he felt terribly sick and the whole room started spinning, but he knew that he didn't have time for any of that passing out crap. He leaned forward and grabbed the leather ties that cuffed his legs to the bed with his somewhat healthy right hand and got rid of those as well. Just when he had managed to free himself he could hear the creaking of the door and lay back down as quickly as he could, placing the blanket on top of himself and hoping that no one had seen anything and couldn't see the open restraints.  
  
Milton chose to enter the room and Connor pretended to be unconscious. For a few minutes nothing would happen and the Irishman tried his hardest to muffle his pained gasps. He could feel how his broken hand was aching and pulsating and sending pain through his veins with every heartbeat, and the pain in his shoulder and the infection didn't make the whole thing any more pleasant. It seemed to take Milton forever until he finally placed a hand on Connor's forehead to check his temperature, and the Irishman knew that this was his chance. His eyes snapped open and he sat up as fast as he could, using his healthy hand to grab the other man's wrist.

"Oh my.." Milton gasped but the blonde MacManus already shoved him back.

The man was thrown back against a table and knocked several medical instruments down. Connor got off the bed and nearly fell because, _damn_ was he weak on his knees, but that wouldn't stop him from attacking the other man once more. The Irishman grabbed Milton by his shirt and threw him to the ground, then he kicked his head once and very hard.   
  
He could hear the satisfying crack of broken glasses and maybe a nose, then everything went quiet apart from the shooting and screaming outside. Connor looked up and searched the room in panic to find some sort of weapon, but there was absolutely nothing there. He didn't know where his guns were. Milton didn't carry any guns either, so all that was left for the Irishman to take were a couple of scalpels and scissors.

He was on his way to the door when he noticed the phials of his blood on the table opposite the bed. Connor went back for them and took them in his hand. They were still warm and that made the whole thing even more sick. For a second his mind was drifting as he just stared at them. He could almost feel how his brain was starting to switch itself off because of the fever, and he knew that he didn't have much time before the whole passing out thing would start again. A loud bang of a door close by startled him and snapped him out of it.   
  
The Irishman threw the phials to the ground and then stepped on them, crushing each one of them and smearing his blood all over the floor. No one deserved to have his blood without his permission. Immunity and the possibility of a cure or not. He knew that he was also crushing his group's possible hope for a cure, that he was crushing the possible end to all this madness, but he knew that these things were also considered a very valuable and powerful weapon against the undead, against everyone else now. And no one deserved to have that much power these days. Especially not this crazy town.

He looked up again when he heard how someone was cursing loudly on his way to the door, so he turned around and searched the room for another exit. His time was running out, and judging by the steps on the other side of the wall it was just a matter of seconds before these crazies would return here. He found another small door on the other side of the room and ran for it, prepared to stab any possible threat outside. But there was no one there. Despite all the pain and injuries Connor still made run for it and disappeared in the dark.

* * *

**one minute later**

"Daryl. We need to leave" he heard Rick say, but the hunter couldn't stop looking at the bloody mess.

"They're coming!" Maggie announced and Daryl finally turned his head to look at them.

He startled when he saw that Rick was standing right next to him, and the policeman placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Look at this place. He got out. He's gone. We need to leave. Now."

"Y'all gonna be a bunch of crybabies any longer? Yah buddy obviously left town and ain't going real far. Waste of time, so let's get the hell outta here!" Merle yelled and rewarded his younger brother with an especially angry look. Daryl turned his head once more to look at the bed. Yes, of course he knew that Connor had managed to fight his way out. It was obvious. Milton wouldn't be lying on the floor like that otherwise. But that was exactly the point that freaked him out so much.

Connor was fucking _gone_. Lost in this mess in a town full of crazies. It wasn't like he doubted that his friend was able to take care of himself. No, it was the fact that they had _lost_ each other. He couldn't even remember the last time the leprechaun hadn't been with him to annoy the crap out of him. And the sheer amount of blood in the room and the fact that Connor had been bitten told him enough. Merle was right. The guy was going nowhere far with this. A _nd how was he supposed to find this freak now?_ They didn't know where to look for him, although he could probably follow the blood trail. But they didn't have time anymore. They _needed_ to leave.

"Listen. I'm sure that he got out and is now on his way back to the car or the prison. We'll just have to get back. But we need to go now" Rick tried to reason with him.

"Damn right, let's go!" Merle yelled and Daryl looked up with an angry frown.

"You shut up!" he spat and his brother raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Hoho, look atcha, Darylena. What did I miss that yah freaking out over a guy like this?"

Maggie suddenly came running for them.

"Rick, we seriously need to leave. They're all over the streets and the smoke is clearing."

Rick nodded.

"Okay" he said and went after her, leaving Daryl no choice but to obey.

Merle was on his way out as well when the younger Dixon noticed something on the nightstand on the other side of the bed and stopped walking.

"Daryl!" he heard Rick yell and saw that they were already half way out of the building.

"'m comin!" the hunter spat with an angry frown, but went for the nightstand before following them.

There it was, the one thing Connor had never dared to take off, no matter where they went.  
The hunter took the rosary in his hand to look at it for a second. He could read the initials on the back of the dark wood.  
 _CM._  
He sighed and looked up to search the room once more.

"Where the fuck are yah" he muttered but wouldn't get an answer.

Of course he wouldn't.  
Daryl shook his head and put the rosary in his trouser pocket, then he finally ran after his group to get out of Woodbury.


	34. Parting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 9 " _The Suicide King_ "

The first thing he noticed when they came out of the woods was that Connor _wasn't_ there. He could see the green car and Glenn and the strange woman, but there was no blonde guy with an injured shoulder, no nothing. Daryl tried to convince himself was that everything was alright, that the Irishman was certainly sitting inside the Hyundai to rest for a bit.

"Glenn!" Rick called out and the hunter saw how the Korean and the woman approached them, but there was still no Connor.

The younger Dixon was slowly starting to panic. What made it even worse was the fact that he just knew that shit was about to go down in a minute,  
simply because Merle was with them, the very man who had tortured the member of their group less than 24 hours ago.

"Glenn. Now we got a problem here. I need you to back off" Rick tried to reason with him, but it was already too late.

Glenn was already pointing his gun at Daryl's brother, and the strange woman had already drawn her katana as well.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" Glenn spat and pointed his gun at Merle.

The younger Dixon placed himself in front of his brother to protect him. The older Dixon just put his hands in the air with a grin on his face.

"Hey hey hey! Put it down!" Daryl demanded and the whole group started talking and yelling at once.

Rick tried to calm the woman down, who was reacting just as intensely and tried to stab Merle with her katana.

"He tried to kill me!" she yelled and Daryl turned around to look at his brother.

The grin on his face told him everything he needed to know. _Jeez_.   
His brother, the troublemaker. How he had missed that. Not.

"Drop the sword!" Rick demanded and Daryl turned around to look at the rest of the group.

Glenn was still furious and had his gun up in the air.

"If it wasn't for him-" he tried to say but the younger Dixon had enough and interrupted him mid sentence.

"He helped us get out of there!"

Rick snorted and looked at Daryl with an angry frown.

"Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you!"

The hunter narrowed his eyes but decided to let it be.  
He didn't want to make the whole yelling and fighting any worse, but his brother was already there to put a spoke in his wheel.

"Hey! We both took our licks, man!" the older Dixon announced and his younger half turned around to give him an angry stare.

"Jackass" he growled and Merle got angry as well.

"Hey, shut up!" he spat and Daryl instinctively backed off, but this time Rick stepped in.

"Enough!" he demanded, but all hell broke loose again.

The woman tried to attack Merle again although Rick told her to put her katana away, and when Glenn wouldn't stop waving the gun around in front of Daryl's face the hunter finally exploded as well.

"Man, get that thing out of my face!" he yelled and everybody finally calmed down a bit.

The younger Dixon tried to calm down, too, but ever since Merle was back he realized that he was just too tense to do anything like that. He was so annoyed by the fact how everyone was freaking out, how Merle couldn't keep his goddamn mouth shut, and how Connor, of all people, _wasn't_ here now. Although the Irishman could be quite a hothead as well he had been rather good at this, the whole staying calm and trying to reason with people first before letting his fists and cursing talk.  
  
The uncertainty was driving the hunter insane, and he was still trying to keep telling himself that Connor had returned to the car and was now waiting inside, although he knew that this was very unlikely. Because he was sure the Irishman would have come out by now, attracted by the sheer noise they were making. But the car was just standing there, and it were just the six of them here. Just _six_.

"Hey, looks like you've gone native, brother" Merle said and snapped his younger half out of it, and Daryl exploded right away.

"No more than you hanging out with that psycho back there!" he spat and tried to shove his brother.

In the end he wouldn't dare doing so, though, because he was still actually afraid of his big brother and respected his strength and dominance too much.

"Oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I gotta tell you that" the older Dixon answered and looked at the mysterious woman with a chuckle.

"Been putting the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time, baby" he went on and started twirling and licking with his tongue.

Daryl rolled his eyes and decided to ignore this bit. He turned his head to look at the car again instead.

_Come on, dumbass. Get your ass outta there._

Glenn and the others seemed rather surprised though.

"What? Andrea's in Woodbury?" the Korean asked and Daryl nodded.

"Right next to the Governor" he muttered and remembered her standing there in this insane crowd, looking at him with wide eyes, trying to beg this sicko to stop.

He startled when the woman suddenly darted forward and tried to stab Merle _**again,**_ and the hunter was left no choice but to back off and dodge the sword attack.

"I told you to drop that!" Rick commanded and approached the woman to press her katana down.

"You know Andrea?"

She just stared at Daryl's brother with furious eyes and wouldn't answer, no matter how many times Rick asked her. It was kind of ironic how little she would talk, and the hunter couldn't help but remember how Connor had compared her quietness to his own. He didn't talk very much either, but this woman was a whole different story.   
  
Because she didn't talk _at all_. Daryl shook his head with an angry frown. _Why the fuck couldn't he stop thinking about this stupid leprechaun? They had bigger problems right now, and the blonde was waiting inside the car. Yep. He was waiting inside the car. No need to worry. He needed to focus on this mess now..._

He looked at the woman again and was surprised when she finally nodded.

Merle chuckled behind him and started talking again, and Daryl had to grit his teeth because, _goddamn_ , his brother was so annoying.

"Yep, she does. Her and blondie spent all winter cuddling up in the forest. Mmm mmm mm."

There it was again. _Blondie_. That fucking Irish weirdo had been blonde. And they had spent all winter together, too. And now that asshole was.. Daryl tried to stop the thoughts right then. Connor was waiting inside the car. End of discussion.

"Yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept them in chains. Kind of ironic now that I think about it."

_Why wouldn't this asshole just shut up?_

"Shut up, bro!" Daryl yelled and was surprised how good it actually felt to let go of some of that anger that was building up inside him ever since Merle had come back and Connor.. _Jesus, why wouldn't he stop thinking about that crap?!_

His brother chuckled and pointed at the woman.

"Hey, man, we snagged them out of the woods. Andrea was close to dying."

"Is that why she's with him?" Maggie asked and Merle nodded.

"Yeah. Snug as two little bugs. So what you gonna do now, Sheriff, huh?"

Glenn seemed to be the only one who noticed how Daryl was slowly losing it.   
He was looking at the hunter with a worried look in his face, saw how the younger Dixon kept searching the surrounding woods and kept looking at the car.

"Surrounded by a bunch of liars, thugs and cowards" Merle went on and seemed to enjoy the fact how he could finally provoke all the others and especially Rick again.

"Shut up!" the policeman muttered and eyed the woman, who still wouldn't tell them much.

"Daryl?"

The hunter startled when he heard his name. Glenn had never stopped staring at him.  
The younger Dixon turned his head to look at him with an angry frown.

"Where's Connor?"

The hunter gritted his teeth and was just about to answer, but once again Merle wouldn't stop talking.

"Oh, man, look at this. Pathetic. All these guns and no bullets in them.."

The pain in his chest, the fact that Glenn _didn't_ know where Connor was, that the car was _empty_ and Merle just _wouldn't shut up_ finally drove the hunter over the edge.

"Shut up!" he yelled as loud as he could, and the anger was fully dominating him now.

His brother still wouldn't back off and got furious as well. He approached Daryl and clenched his fist.

"Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies you roll..."

He couldn't speak on because Rick had knocked him out with a hard blow to the back of his head.

"Asshole."

* * *

He just needed a fucking break. Even though Merle was "switched off" now the whole annoying nightmare wouldn't end, because there was no solution to the real problem. The group didn't want the older Dixon with them.

"It won't work" Rick tried to explain to the younger, but Daryl wouldn't have any of that.

"It's gotta" he retorted, because damn right it had to. Merle was his _brother_.

"It'll stir things up" the former policeman said to this, but the hunter wouldn't give in.

_Of course he knew that it would make the whole thing worse, but Merle was family, why wouldn't they get that?_

"Look, the Governor is probably on the way to the prison right now. Merle knows how he thinks and we could use the muscle" he argued against that, but it looked like the rest of the group had set up their minds anyway.

"I'm not having him at the prison" Maggie said.

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol and Beth?" Glenn asked and Daryl just had to snort.

"He ain't a rapist!" he exclaimed.

_Sure, Merle was no butterfly, but did they really think he would put up with a bloody rapist?_  
 _After everything he had done to that real rapist kid back on the farm?!_

"Well, his buddy is" Glenn countered and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night."

 _Of course he was mad at Merle for actually staying with someone as sick as the Governor, but it wasn't like it was something new. His big brother had been friends with many shady sickos before, and that was exactly the reason why he needed Daryl_ with _him_. _Because the younger Dixon was the only one who could keep his brother somewhat on the right tracks._

"There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats" Rick spoke up and the hunter snorted once more.

He turned around to point at the woman, who was waiting for them by their car.

"So you're gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?"

Rick shook his head.

"She's not coming back."

Daryl sighed.

"Well, yah took Connor in and took him back to the RV although he looked like some seriously shady bastard, and you also took him back in when he returned with all the immunity and infectiousness crap, and that worked out, didn't it?"

Rick put his hands on his hips.

"Well, Connor wasn't like Merle. And he sure was a better brother to you than Merle ever was."

Daryl was surprised how much freaking _past tense_ could hurt. Because Rick was right. Connor _hadn't_ been like Merle.   
He had been stupid enough to bring him up. There was no comparison at all.

"But Merle's blood. He ain't gonna be a threat to us no more. He's family" the hunter tried to bring his last and best argument up.

Because he knew how this group worked, how every single member of this group worked. It was all about family and relationships and nothing else.  
 _So they sure would give him his family, wouldn't they?_

"No. Merle's your blood" Glenn said and Daryl looked at him.

"My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison."

"And you're part of that family. But he's not. He's not. We started something last night. You realize that? We need you with us" Rick joined in and the hunter looked at them all.

He hated them all for actually making him choose. Because they were right. They were his family, maybe not by blood but by bond. He had felt at home with them, and even he had to admit how much he had grown because of them. _But Merle was his **real** family, why wouldn't they get that, why couldn't they understand that?_   
  
He would never make Rick pick Carl and little asskicker _or_ the group. He would never make Maggie pick her father and sister _or_ Glenn. S _o why were they doing this to him now?_ He heard how Merle groaned and woke up behind them and turned around. There he had the answer. They made him choose because they weren't his real family like Merle, they made him choose because they didn't _want_ to understand and because they were selfish.

"Man, y'all don't know!" he growled and got even more angry when he saw all the pleading looks they were giving him.

He remembered what Merle had told him.

_Ain't nobody gonna care about you 'cept me little brother ain't nobody ever will._

Even Connor's words were ringing in his head now.

_The real problem here is that that stupid group doesn't get ye. And you let 'em treat ye like shit._

Now that he thought about it it just made perfect sense. _Damn right._ _Family, my ass_. _Real family would never make you choose like that. And why are they begging you now? Because they need you. For what?_ Not as valued family member and because he was such a good person.  
  
They just needed his man power. His crossbow in their stupid war against the Governor. Only two men had ever really cared about him, appreciated him as a friend and as brother, not just as weapon. Not just as Daryl, the watchdog, the one who brought food. He remembered what Connor had told him just a couple of days ago.

_Like you? Go Daryl, fetch this fer me Daryl, kill these people fer me Daryl, feed my wife fer me Daryl... And you jump and fetch, no matter what he says._

No.

Only two men had never really used him like that. One of them was _gone_. The other one was waiting for him.  
So he looked at the waiting group again, who was obviously begging him to stay but wouldn't actually speak it out, so he snorted and looked down.

"Fine. We'll fend for ourselves" he muttered and the group got excited all over again.

"That's not what I was saying" Glenn said and Daryl shrugged.

He knew that they hadn't meant it like that, but there was no way he would go anywhere without Merle.

"No him, no me."

Maggie looked at him and shook her head.

"Daryl, you don't have to do that" she said and Daryl raised an eyebrow.

 _Why would she even talk to him like that? They didn't even really know each other for_ that _long._

"It was always Merle and I before this" he informed her and didn't just mean the apocalypse, but in general.

Merle had pretty much been his only friend before the apocalypse. And they had been through so much shit together, so many years..If it weren't for Connor then he wouldn't even have known any real friends apart from Merle. Although you couldn't even really call his brother a friend. But he had just said so himself. Blood was blood after all.

"Don't" Maggie kept begging, but the hunter ignored her.

"You serious?" Glenn asked, but Daryl just kept looking at Rick.

Truth be told, he was waiting for him to say something. Out of all those people, Rick had been closest to a friend, although their leader was probably just using him as his right hand after Shane's death. He had always been okay with that role, he had always respected that man although his whole decision-making was going downhill ever since Shane's and Lori's death, but still. _Rick's opinion had always mattered to him, so why wasn't he speaking up now?_ Glenn was the one who wouldn't stop talking then.

"You're just gonna leave like that?" he asked and Daryl actually got mad at him.

Of course, he could understand the condition the Korean was in. His stupid big brother had beaten the man up after all, but why wouldn't he just give him a break now? The way he was talking it sounded like he was making Daryl the bad guy now. And how hypocritical he actually was. As if he would do anything else if it were about Maggie.

"You'd do the same thing!" he countered, but Glenn wouldn't let go.

"What do you want us to tell Carol?"

The hunter sighed. Of course they had to bring up the people that mattered to him now. He knew that it was cruel to leave them behind, and he was sure that he would really miss them. But that wouldn't change a thing. The woman wasn't his girlfriend. Little asskicker wasn't his daughter and Carl wasn't his little brother. Those were Rick's children. Merle, on the other hand, _was_ his brother. And that was all that mattered.

"She'll understand" the younger Dixon just said and looked at Rick, waiting for him to say something to that.

But the policeman kept quiet. He was just staring at him. Daryl was disappointed, because this just proved that Merle and Connor were right. They were fighting for Daryl Dixon, the crossbow, the fighter, the right hand. Not for Daryl Dixon, the friend. And he certainly didn't want that anymore. Connor had taught him that he deserved more than that. And the Irishman had also taught him that brothers were more important than anything else. Because without them you might as well hang yourself.

"Say goodbye to your pop for me" the hunter muttered as he passed Maggie.

The others were running after him, but he just kept going.

"Daryl, are you serious? Daryl!" Glenn yelled, and Daryl turned his head when he heard how someone rushed after him.

"Hey. Hey" he heard him say and was actually surprised when he realized that it was Rick.

"There's gotta be another way" the former policeman pleaded, but the hunter kept walking.

"Don't ask me to leave him. I already did that once. I lost my best friend today. Ain't gonna lose my brother, too."

"And what do you want me to tell Connor when he comes back to the prison? If you think _we_ 're not worth it, do it for him at least.  
Are you seriously choosing _Merle_ over Connor and us? After everything you two.."

"Yeah, well. Connor ain't coming back" the hunter interrupted him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Rick had quite some trouble keeping up with him as they made their way to the car because Daryl seriously just wanted to get out.

"How can you be so sure about this? You saw the laboratory, he got out, he's out there somewhere and..."

"Even if he got out, yah saw the blood. He got bit. You saw what it did t'him last time. Ain't no way he's gonna survive that all on his own.  
The leprechaun's lost and I'm leaving. End of discussion."

"You can't just give up so easily, we _need_ you."

Daryl stopped walking and looked at Rick with an angry frown.

"You think this is _easy_ for me?"

The policeman sighed.

"Look, I know how much Connor meant to you, that this really is about him, that's not going to be inside the prison when we get back, but that's no.."

"It ain't about this stupid leprechaun!" Daryl spat and Rick looked at him in surprise. The hunter sighed.

"This is about _Merle_. It's always been 'bout Merle. So even if that dumbass survived and comes back, I don't care. I've known him for _a year_. Merle's my brother, I've known him all my life. No him, no me. That's all I can say" Daryl answered and stared Rick down.

He shook his head and was glad that they had finally reached the back of the Hyundai.

"Should he manage to get his stupid ass back to you, tell him that I don't need him no longer. That I got Merle now. That he should stay with you people and that I.."

He had opened the hatchback of the car by now to get his emergency backpack but had to stop talking when he saw that Connor's was still in there as well. For a moment he just stared at it, then he gritted his teeth and pushed it away with an angry growl to get his own.

"Just tell him to watch his ass" he muttered and checked his backpack to make sure that everything was inside.

"And you take care of yourself, too. Take care of lil ass-kicker, Carl."

Daryl put his backpack on and looked at Rick again, hoping to hear one thing that would actually make him stay.  
But Rick was just looking at him, all helpless and confused.

"He's one tough kid" Daryl said with a nod and considered this his goodbye.

Rick still wouldn't say anything, so the hunter headed back to get to his brother, who was still standing where he had been knocked out just a couple of minutes ago. He heard how Maggie and Glenn were calling after him, but he decided to ignore their calls.

"Come on, bro" he muttered and put a hand on his brother's back.

Merle was obviously still a bit dizzy because of the attack with the gun, but that wouldn't stop him from wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulder with a pleased grin. Daryl gave his former group a final and longing stare, hoping to see them come up with something that would make him stay, but Rick and the others were just staring back at him, completely petrified. Daryl felt a big lump in his throat because he knew that this was goodbye, that he would probably regret this decision later, but he still kept going. Soon he and Merle disappeared in the woods.


	35. Insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! So this one is rather weird, and it isn't supposed to make sense. I just wanted to play around with the whole infection thing in a slightly... different way I guess? But to explain it a bit: he's -totally- mixing up everything here. Time and people. I thought it would be fun since there are so many parallels. Like, Daryl looking like Murphy, Hershel reminding me of Noah, the prison, all the danger and enemies and so on. Something nice to play around with.
> 
>  **setting** : between episode 9 " _The Suicide King_ " and episode 10 " _Home_ "

He needed to find the fucking sheep. That was all he could think about. So many crazy and weird things were going on right now, and all he could think about were the fucking sheep. His father would probably kill him if he returned home without those dumb fucks. _But where the hell were they?_ And that wasn't even the weirdest thing, that they were just _gone_. As Connor made his way through the woods he couldn't help but notice all the people all around him.  
  
 _What the fuck were they doing here?_ Some seriously wacky shit was going on here. It weren't just farmers like him. No. He could see all sorts of people all around him, who were staggering around the woods like some drunk folks. Businessmen in suits. Teenagers. Doctors. Policemen. Town people. _What were they doing here? Was there some sort of festival they had missed?_ One of the policemen was staring right at him _. Fuck. He couldn't risk getting caught._

Connor started walking faster, trying to make his way past all those crazies without making them suspicious. But he could still feel how they were watching him, looking at him, following him, staring at him like he was someone strange. _Fuck. They know who I am. They're coming to get me._ _I need to get the fuck outta here. He needed to find the fucking sheep_.  
  
Connor stopped walking for a moment when he reached some sort of hilltop. _Jesus fucking Christ. Where the hell was he?_ Trees trees trees. All around him. Trees and weirdo people. He touched and moved his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time. Fucking Italians. Shooting him in the shoulder like that. It hurt like a bitch. The Irishman winced when he realized that he had used his bad hand again. Connor hissed and looked at the battered and swollen mess that had used to be his left hand.  
  
Right. That thing was still broken. Fucking Russians and their ideas. Thinking they could tie him to a toilet to keep him in place. His hand might be fucked now, but if there was one thing that was more broken than his hand now then it was this stupid toilet. _How stupid had they really been? Thinking they could keep him away from Murphy?_

The blonde widened his eyes in surprise and started walking again when he remembered what he needed to do. _Right! This wasn't about the fucking sheep. He didn't need to find the fucking sheep. He needed to find Murphy!_ _He needed to get back to the prison._ _Only he had managed to get out. Murphy was still in danger._  
  
 **He needed to get back to the prison**.  
  
Connor wanted to run run run, back to the prison, back to _them_. _Them? Right. Right. The sheep. He needed to save_...he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. _Fuck, he couldn't remember_. _Well, he needed to save someone, find someone for fucks sakes!_ But the headaches weren't making it easy. He cursed when he ran right into someone, one of the strange town people who were staggering and wavering just as much as he did.

"Watch where yer fucking going, asshole!" he spat but still lost his balance.

Fucking Boston and all those people who thought that they owned the sidewalks with their Prada shit.

He fell to the ground with a grunt and looked up. Everything was spinning, _and jesus did he feel sick_. He remembered what he and Murphy had been talking about this morning. The fight in the bar. _Right._ Maybe he really shouldn't have had so much whiskey yesterday. Shit was like poison. He tried to concentrate and finally saw that he had run into some young woman, who just stared at him but wouldn't say anything. It was rather creepy, and Connor thought that she sure as hell was on some sort of drug. The Irishman sighed and managed to sit up.

"Just...watch where yer going, lady. Shouldn't be wandering around in tha woods like that" he muttered and got up after a moment.

The lady just stood there and kept staring at him. Connor started walking again, having trouble remembering where he wanted to go. All he knew was that he needed to get the fuck outta here. _Danger. It was dangerous out here. They wanted him. People were after him. Dangerous fucks were after him. He needed to get back to...back where?_ Ah yes. _He remembered. The sheep. Murphy. Home. Right._  
  
He kept walking for a little while longer, but soon he hardly could because he was _freezing_. _Damn. Why was it so cold here although he was sweating his ass off? This was Georgia after all!_ He stopped walking abruptly and frowned. _Georgia? No no no. He was from Ireland. Boston._ He raised his head to make out the sun. _Was it even daytime? Or was it night?_ He scratched his forehead. _Ah. There it was. The sun. It was day. But_...he turned around multiple times. _Where was he? Where was he going? What..what the hell was going on?_

He gasped and bent over when he felt a terrible pain in his shoulder, like someone had stabbed him. _Fuck_. He was pretty sure that the last time he had been shot it hadn't hurt _so_ much. _He needed to find Murphy_. _No, the man..the man with the beard_. Connor hit his forehead hard as soon as he had finished the thought. _The man with the fucking beard. That man was his father, for fucks sakes. Yes. His father would know what to do. He had taken care of that sorta thing before._  
  
Although the old man was missing a leg now it wasn't like he couldn't take care of his own son, right? He just needed to find their..was his father still in prison or in the hut? No. No, **he needed to find the prison** **. _The prison_**. _The old man was still inside the prison. And Murph. Yes. Murph was there, too._ ** _He needed to get back to the prison_. **  
  
The Irishman started walking again, although it was more like some sort of stumbling. When he turned around ( _why the fuck was he so fucking paranoid? Always turning around..round...round._ ) he saw that the young woman was still following him, and so were several others of those weirdos, _including_ the policemen. _Fuck, they know I'm one of the Saints. She recognized me. She recognized me. They're coming to get me. Shit shit shit._

"Look, 'm sorry I bumped inta you, lady. But there's nothing I can do fer you just..."

He stopped talking when he felt how someone placed a hand, no _squeezed_ his injured shoulder from behind. _Oh Christ. They've found me_. His instincts kicked right in, no matter how confused and disoriented he was. Connor bent over and grabbed the attacker by their hand, pulling them over his back and throwing them to the ground.

"Fuck off! I ain't going back in there!" he yelled and groaned when he realized that he had both used his broken hand again and strained his shoulder even more, but he didn't have anytime to get distracted by the pain because the attacker, which turned out to be the woman he had run into earlier, tried to grab him by his legs with strange and awkward grunts and moans, and for a second the Irishman believed to hear her say nothing but "Help me." Over and over again. Croaking. Gasping. _Pleading_. Her face was nothing but a terrifying and grotesque grimace, looking almost like... demons.

 _Why are ye leaving us, Da?_ he remembered his own childish voice say. He and Murph couldn't have been older than four years.

_There's demons out there, my lad. And yer Da's gotta take care of tem. Smite tem. One day yer gonna understand.  
Look after yer brother. Do yer mother proud._

The woman with the demon face kept pulling his leg, staring at him and pleading pleading pleading.

_Help me, so hungry._

_Oh my god. You're totally losing it now._

Connor stumbled out of her way and tried to run again, further inside the woods, completely lost now, utterly confused, and unsure where to go in the first place. He was on his way down the hill when he suddenly noticed a small hut just by some lake and let out a relieved sigh. The hut. He was home. He knew that his father would probably be mad at him for losing the sheep and his horse in the woods, but there were more important things to do.  
  
 ** _They needed to get back to the prison_**. ** _He needed to find Murph._ **  
  
The old man needed to help him with his hand and shoulder. And he needed something to drink. No _eat_. Ever since he had lost.. _had lost what again? The sheep. Right. The sheep._ Ever since then he had felt a terrible burning sensation in his throat and belly, telling him that he really needed something to eat. _Christ, he was so hungry!_

When Connor finally reached the hut he opened the door with a loud bang.

"Da! We gotta..." he winced when the headaches and stomach-ache took control over him for a second.  
  
 _What did they have to do? What?!_

"Da, we gotta get back t'the prison, we gotta find Murphy!" he yelled and wouldn't let the pain win just yet.

He searched their hut for his father, but the old man was nowhere in sight. Fucking typical.

"Come on, Da! Be there fer us when we need ye fer once!" he yelled because he got angry, _really_ angry, when he couldn't find his father.

Just like every single time when they needed him, when someone was close to dying his father wasn't there for him, and it was _his_ job to find and look after his brother. _Look after yer brother. Do yer mother proud._ He searched the tiny kitchen and living room once more, but it looked like he was all on his own inside the hut.

"Da! I really need yer fucking help!" he croaked and finally allowed his knees to give in after all the running and running away and all the terrible, _terrible_ pain in his shoulder, which seemed to get worse and worse with every minute he breathed. And it was so hot and so cold and he was so hungry and so angry, that...

"Get out of here!" he heard someone yell and looked up with an abrupt and sudden movement of his head.

He knew that voice, the accent. Oho of course he did. That _bastard_. There he was, shotgun in his hand, his fat ass covered with bandages, his bald head shining in the dim light. Ivan Chekov. That dirty bastard that had stolen his brother from him, cuffed him to a toilet and forced him to break his own hand.

"Where is he?!" he spat and got back to his feet, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and basically everything, because he was just too _angry_.

His own father had abandoned him again, and he was the only one who had to protect his brother, find his brother.

"Where is he!" he yelled again and approached the man, ignoring the shotgun and everything else.

Before the other even got the chance to pull the trigger Connor was already on him, using his healthy hand to grab the weapon and make the owner drop it. The Irishman didn't have any weapons with him since those bastards had stolen them from him, and for a second he forgot the scissors and scalpels in his trouser pockets.  
  
He didn't know why his instincts told him to bite the man first, but he couldn't control his madness and anger any longer and so he just did. The Irishman wrestled his enemy to the ground and kicked his shotgun out of his reach, then he proceeded to wrap both his hands around his throat, ignoring the incredible pain in his broken left hand.

"Did yer really think you could kill me, you sick fuck?! Where is he?! Where!" he kept yelling and strangling, strangling, strangling and _choking_.

The man underneath him tried to answer but couldn't because of the lack of air. Soon the whole thing changed because Connor could hardly concentrate on anything because of the pain and the fever, and it felt like some sort of memory was coming back, because he remembered. He was no longer staring at Chekov but the walker who had bit his brother back in Boston. He got so angry that he squeezed even tighter.

"It was _never_ my fault, he's dead because af you! Look at me!"

The man was slowly losing his consciousness but kept struggling and fighting.

" _You_ killed him!"

He could feel how the man finally stopped breathing and collapsed right on top of him.  
For a second he couldn't breathe either because he was so exhausted, so furious, so relieved.

Then the banging started. On the door. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. He could hear them again, the gasps, the groans.

_Help me. So hungry._

It made him furious. Connor got back to his feet and stared at the door, where the banging wouldn't stop.

"Shut up!" he yelled and headed for the kitchen because he needed to find something, _something_ , to shut those bastards up.

_And there it was again. Knock knock knock. Help me. So hungry._

"Shut! Up!" he shouted once more, but froze when he found a large kitchen knife. This was all he needed. And yet again it felt like he was losing control over his body because of this madness, because of the anger, because of the fever. He ripped the door open and started kicking and shoving his way out of the hut, and then he could see them. All those crazy people. Those.. _demons._  
  
Hovering over their sheep, ripping their bellies open, biting their throats, their shoulders, ripping them apart and eating their bloody guts. And he recognized the faces. Chekov's men. Those Russians from the Copley. That sick mass murderer who had kept terrorizing Rocco's mother. Yakavetta's men. Yakavetta. All those wannabe gangsters from the Roman's mansion.  
  
The man who had killed Rocco. The man who had killed Greenly. The man who had killed Romeo. The walkers that had bit Duffy. Smecker. Eunice. Dolly. Murphy. They were all there. Eating their fucking sheep like the bloody monsters that they were. And he knew what he had to do. _There's demons out there, my lad. And yer Da's gotta take care of tem. Smite tem. One day yer gonna understand._

Oh how he understood him now. They all needed to die. So he made his way back to the waiting mob and let his anger take over, slicing his way through all of them and fighting fighting fighting until there was no one left but him and the incredible exhaustion. All his enemies were gone. There was no rage left inside him. Now he could finally, _finally_ rest. The Irishman made his way back inside the hut, closing the door with an exhausted groan, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and hand. He had to drop the knife because it felt like it weighed a ton.

And there he could see him. Murphy's body. Lying there, just like he remembered. In the position he had fallen to the ground when had shot his reanimated corpse. There it was, the bloody hole in his head. There it was, the ugly bite wound that had killed him in the first place. Connor collapsed right next to him and couldn't hold back a relieved sigh when he felt how cool the floor was.   
  
He needed something cool, because he could feel how hot and feverish he really was now. He could feel how his heart was pounding in his chest, speeding up, slowing down, speeding up and running running running, and when he finally allowed himself to close his eyes he could feel how it slowly calmed down, getting slower, and slower, and slower with every breath. It felt like he was slowly falling down some dark tunnel, but not in a negative and terrifying way. No. He actually welcomed it. He had finally found some peace.

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he finally woke up again was that everything was sticky. His shirt. His jacket. His jeans, his socks, his underwear, it felt like everything was glued to his body. Connor groaned and turned on his back, rubbing his eyes with a tired and exhausted yawn. He hissed when his broken hand stung with every movement and felt it with his other healthy hand.   
  
_Yup. Definitively broken_.  
  
He remembered how he had been pulling and pulling, hoping to break the leather restraints instead of his wrist. _Well damn, see how that worked out_. The Irishman closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He felt a dull pain in his head, like headaches that were suppressed by some pills. _Jesus._ So he had really managed to get out of Woodbury.

He couldn't really remember much. The last thing he really remembered was how he had managed to get out of the lab. _And then?_ He groaned and rubbed his aching shoulder. He could feel the stitches, the strings and the wounded flesh. He knew that he would probably have to clean it. He had been sweating and bleeding a lot by the looks of it, but other than that he felt relatively okay.  
  
 _How fucking weird was that_.  
  
He just felt like he had eaten some rotten sandwich. Just thinking about this made him gag, and when he moved just so he wouldn't puke all over his body he had to realize that yep, his whole body was nothing but a shaky mess of pain in his limps. He could still tell that this was different compared to last time. Last time he had been in bed for weeks, because the infection had knocked him out _completely_. _But this?_ It almost felt a little bit _too_ normal. This whole immunity thing was actually scaring the crap out of him.

He knew that it was stupid, but he still put a hand on his chest just to make sure that his heart was still pumping. There it was, the gentle _thud thud, thud thud,_ that told him that he was still alive. Connor frowned and put the hand on his forehead. It was still warm, and he still had a fever going on there, but that was still nothing compared to the last time he had been infected.   
  
_Perhaps this Milton guy had done something weird to him?_ Truth be told, he didn't even want to know because it freaked him out. It was a bit too alien abduction for his taste, and he certainly wouldn't talk about it as soon as he.. _Oh fuck. The others. Daryl. Had they managed to get out? Was his friend okay? Were the others okay? This Governor freak knew about the prison. How many hours had he been lying here on the floor like that? Fuck, he needed to hurry, the others needed his.._  
  
Connor groaned when he tried to get up and couldn't. His hands and legs were shaking because of the exhaustion and god knows what was going on inside him, but that wouldn't stop him, so he tried again. _The others needed him, wouldn't his freaking body get that?_

He fought as hard as he could, but somehow he always ended back on his ass. _Jesus. That was going to be one hell of a journey_.  
  
It had taken him and Daryl a couple of months to get back to the group after that first bite, _but he didn't have a couple of months!_ So he kept fighting and tried to get up again and again until some slow footsteps made him stop. He wasn't alone. Connor searched his clothes as quickly as he could only to remember that they had taken his guns and knives and that they were still in Woodbury. His bag was still in the car. He didn't have anything but a couple of pointy scalpels and that sure as hell wouldn't be enough to kill a walker. It sounded like a walker at least.  
  
The Irishman turned his head to search the hut for the threat and found the undead by the door. It was facing the exit, but somehow his clothes were still ringing a bell. _A dangerous bell._ Connor frowned as he tried to remember where he had seen the walker before, and when he turned his head to the left he could see it. Blood on the ground. Scratch marks someone had left with their nails right next to him. The Irishman swallowed hard. It was coming back with dangerous painful flashes.  
  
The fighting. The struggling.   
The _strangling_.

 _Oh my god_.

The blonde turned his head again to look at the undead, who was still standing by the door, gently tapping on it, trying to get out.

_He really couldn't have done that, could he?_

But there they were, the terrible images of the man struggling underneath him.

_Please, oh my god, no! No! Help me! I'm begging you, no!_

_Oh my god._

More gentle shuffling and tapping on the door. Connor forced himself not to breathe for a second.

"Hello?" he finally managed to get out and the man in front of him slowly turned around.

The Irishman widened his eyes in shock and didn't know what to say. The man was most certainly dead.   
It was very obvious that he had been strangled to death, the bruises told him everything he needed to know.   
And there it was, the faint and superficial bite wound.

_Jesus fucking Christ. What have I done?_

There was no plausible explanation for this. Nothing but the images and memories that kept flashing before his eyes. He had most definitively killed the man, crazy and tortured by pain and fever, but still. _He had done it_. A tired groan escaped the walker's mouth as he made his way towards Connor.

"Fuck, I'm _so_ sorry" the Irishman said, as if it was making it any better. But no matter what he said, the man would always be dead.

"I didn't mean t...the bite, everything, that..."

He buried his face in his healthy hand and shook his head.

As if it wasn't hard enough for him already. And now he had managed to kill a man who was probably _innocent_.

"I didn't mean t'kill ye!" he went on, trying to reason with the undead, but just like all the others this one was also unforgiving and indifferent to his talk.

He was coming closer and closer, and for a second Connor actually considered letting him kill him as punishment for what he had done. But then he remembered his promises. He had promised Murphy not to kill himself. He had promised Daryl to never leave the group. But fuck, could he seriously live with this? He would have to kill the man. _Again._  
  
Just to protect his own pathetic life. He tried to move out of the undead's reach just so he didn't have to kill him, but he knew that this was not an option. He saw the knife were he had dropped it before he had passed out. Connor knew that he needed to act _now_. "I'm so sorry" was all he could say, then he forced himself to get back up again and headed for the knife.

* * *

He couldn't find any pennies. _What kind of household didn't have any fucking pennies?_  
  
And this wasn't even the worst part. His rosary was gone, and he didn't know where. He felt so incredibly naked and ashamed. If it weren't for his tattoos, _his stupid foolish tattoos_ , then he would have felt like his god had left him completely. Connor still decided to bury the man, still decided to pray for him, although his faith was seriously crumbling by now and part of him didn't even believe in this _useless shit_ anymore. When he stepped outside he saw the mess he had made before he had passed out. All the walkers he had butchered in front of the house, the innocent man he had murdered.  
  
He tried to blame his insanity. Of course he had to be insane now. The fever must have fried his brain now. _Really_ fried it this time. He couldn't explain it any other way. He still couldn't remember half the things he had done before he had passed out, and part of him really didn't want to know. Ever. Now that he thought about it he wished that he had never made it out that lab. He should have stayed there. All tied up. He didn't want to imagine what he could have done to the others, to Daryl, if this sort of shit had happened with them around. This was the one thing he had feared for the entire past year, and now it _had_ happened.

He felt like crying, he felt like raging, he felt like throwing things around, but did nothing instead. He just kept digging the hole for the man he had killed, kept praying and praying and praying although some part of him seriously couldn't even believe in god anymore. His mind tried to come up with so many excuses to give him some sort of peace, but he knew that everything was a lie. _You don't know if this man was innocent. No one who has survived this long can be innocent. You should be glad that the others weren't there. You should be glad that you didn't hurt **them**._

 _They_ were another story. Truth be told, he was worried sick. He missed those people, which he had now considered his family, his home. He really wanted to know if they were safe, really wanted them to be safe. But he also knew that there was no way he could go back to them now. Just like him they had always been worried because of this fucked up immunity. But somehow that still tore him apart. Because he didn't want to leave. Because he didn't want to be alone. Because he didn't want to leave _Daryl_. But then again. He certainly didn't want to kill this bastard. There was no way he was killing someone with _that_ face ever again. Go back. Leave. Go back. Leave. An endless mind game was repeating itself in his head over and over again as he kept digging and digging.

* * *

He was sitting by the lake, hair wet and wearing nothing but his shorts. Connor was trying to get the dirt and blood out of his clothes, simply because he didn't have anything else to wear. The man had several shirts and trousers in his hut, but there was no way the Irishman would take them. Not after everything he had done. He had even found a small storage which had been filled with supplies, but he wouldn't touch them either, no matter how hungry he really was.   
  
He would rather starve to death than feast on the food that had belonged to the man he had _murdered_. The Irishman thought about how ironic the whole thing really was. He loses his rosary, Murphy's guns, the picture and his friend and everything goes to shit. He knew that it probably really wasn't his fault after all. He hadn't been given any choice. _They_ had infected him. _They_ had almost killed him. _They_ had made him go crazy. But that wouldn't take the guilt away, this wouldn't wash the invisible blood off his hands.

The Irishman was sitting on the small wooden pier and looked at the only couple of things he had taken with him. The shotgun. A couple of knives. Some shells, a bandage and a pair of wooden spoons. He kept scrubbing and scrubbing until his good hand hurt, then he lay his clothes on the planks to let them dry. The cold water of the lake had done him some good, but he still felt like crap.  
  
He knew that he needed to rest and make it through this infection, but he wouldn't allow himself that. He knew he didn't deserve this kind of luxury after what he had done, and he knew that he needed to pay the man he had murdered some sort of respect. So there was no treating himself. No sleeping. No nothing. _He needed to get out of here._

Connor sighed and grabbed the wooden spoons and bandage to take care of his broken hand, careful to keep it steady and calm. He didn't really want to think about anything so he just kept staring at white cloth which was getting dirty because even after washing all the blood and sweat off his body he was still dirty as hell. He raised his head when he heard a car engine close by.   
  
_Was this the Hyundai?_  
  
He listened up but couldn't hear a damn thing. He shook his head with an angry frown and paid more attention to the bandaging process.  
The Irishman didn't trust his senses anymore.

_Next thing ye know is that you hear the angels sing._

God how pathetic the whole thing really was. He turned his head once more when he heard the engine again, and just then a couple of white flowers by the bank caught his attention.

Cherokee roses.

_Sign of hope. Gives strength._

Connor snorted angrily and turned his head. He _hated_ those things.  
The first thing he was going to do as soon as he got up was rip them out and throw them in the lake.

_Lying piece of shit. That's what you are._

"Look at that!" he heard someone say and turned his head abruptly to see who was behind him.


	36. Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 10 " _Home_ "

"Look at that! Papá! Papá!"

He couldn't see them, but he could hear them. Not walkers, but people. _Real_ people. Well, they _had_ to be real at least. _Or was he hallucinating in Spanish now?_ Connor frowned and eyed his surroundings, but there was no one in sight. He could still hear people talking. Two men at least, and they were very close. The Irishman cursed and got back up to get off the pier.  
  
He didn't like being out in the open like that, especially when he was half naked and didn't have a real freaking gun. Connor grabbed all his clothes which were still soaking wet and ran back to the hut to get some cover. He got dressed again, ignoring the fact that his shirt was sticking to his skin and it was almost im-freaking-possible to get back inside his jeans like that. He tried to remember all the faces he had seen in Woodbury. _Could some of those people have been Spanish? Most definitively. Fuck, were they really after him and the others now? What kind of sickos were those people?_

"Fuck fuck fuck" he muttered and put a couple of shells inside the shotgun he had taken from the hut. If those bastards really were from Woodbury, then he knew he didn't stand a chance against them like that. He had trouble reloading the weapon since he could hardly use his left hand, and it wasn't like the thing was good for something like this anyway. He couldn't shoot targets that were far away, and fast and effective reloading was a no go. Oh how he wanted to punch somebody for taking his guns, _Murphy's freaking guns_ , from him.

"Papá! Look! There's a house! Maybe we can find..."

Connor couldn't understand the rest because he heard a bang of which sounded like a trunk lid. A second later there was the loud crying of a baby. The Irishman hesitated for a second. _A child? Families with babies couldn't be bad people, could they?_ He couldn't recall seeing any children inside Woodbury.  
  
 _But then again, they had attacked the town during the night, when there had just been soldiers and guards outside. Those were the people they had to be afraid of, weren't they?_ His mind was racing. He had seen how fucked up those people had been. _Maybe they were using the baby as bait? Like come out, come out, we need your help, only to start shooting as soon as someone approached their car?_

"Arnaldo! Wait! Wait!" another men yelled, his voice echoing all the way through the woods and across the lake.

 _Jesus, if they keep yelling like that there's gonna be walkers all over us,_ Connor thought with an angry frown and tried to concentrate. He knew that there was a street close by, and the voices seemed to come from that direction. He identified the voices of two men and a baby, but he didn't have a clue how many more there were. They could have surrounded him by now and he wouldn't even really know.  
  
 _Fuck, how much he hated his paranoia right now_. The Irishman heard how the footsteps were coming closer and closer, heading right for the hut. Connor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he finally decided to step out of the dark shadow behind the building. He raised the shotgun to point it at whoever was coming at him, ready to shoot the second he didn't like what he saw.

"Stop and freeze right fucking now!" he yelled and startled the two Spanish men.

One of them, the man with the beige jacket and a gray shirt, looked like he was just about Connor's age, maybe even a bit older. The other man, who was wearing a zipped hoodie and a white shirt, turned out to be a teenaged boy, 16 years old, give or take. The Irishman couldn't see anyone else, and the older of the two seemed to be the only one with a gun. The two Spanish men seemed rather shocked and surprised, and Connor couldn't really remember their faces. He was sure that he had never seen them before and judging by the looks on their faces they had never seen him before either, but he still remained suspicious and skeptical.

"Now Put. The. Gun. Down. On the ground, where I can see it" the blonde demanded in Spanish and the older of the two looked at the man with wide eyes.

He could see that the man was both terrified and angry.

"Please Sir, we just.."

"I said put the gun down!" Connor repeated, Paranoia now fully rushing over him.

It was strange for him to be speaking Spanish after what felt like years. He was even a bit surprised that he could actually still speak it. He and Murphy had complained about all the learning and revising languages for years, but their mother had insisted on it. Even back then they had never really taken it seriously.   
  
They'd had their fun with it, enjoyed speaking different languages as their personal secret twin code or using it to baffle others, but they had never -really- used it. This was actually the very first time where he really considered it useful, and he thanked his mother with all his heart now.

"We just need help! Our..." the younger suddenly started talking and the older man, which seemed to be his father, turned his head to look at him.

"Stop talking, son! Let me talk to the man!" he interrupted him and looked at Connor again.

He had both his hands in the air, never daring to put one of them on the revolver which was still stuck in its holster.  
The crying of the baby started again and the younger turned his head.

"But papa! We need to get it.."

"I said.."

"Is that your child?" Connor interrupted the both of them and the older nodded.

"Yes, Sir. Yes. Just...just let us go. We saw your hut and assumed that..."

"This isn't my house" the blonde interrupted him again and just stared at the two men for a little while longer.

They didn't seem dangerous to him. Quite the opposite. They were weak, maybe they really were just a family that was passing by. The shotgun was getting heavy because his right hand was the only one really holding it, and he felt awkward but kept going. Real fighters like the ones he had encountered in Woodbury would have taken advantage of this weakness by now, slapped it out of his hand or shot him in the head, but those two men didn't look like they'd come up with a plan like that yet. They actually looked _scared_. The Irishman bit his lower lip with a frown but kept his shotgun up in the air just for a little bit longer.

"Who's looking after your baby?"

"M..my wife, Fernanda, she's...she's in the car. In..in the car. Right back there, on the road?"

Connor raised his head to see where the man was pointing at. He could see a hint of red through the leaves of the trees, something which really looked like a car. A station wagon maybe. The crying wouldn't stop.

"What do you need help for?" he went on and looked at them again.

The younger of the two got excited then.

"Yes! We need help! The car, it got stuck and.."

"Arnaldo!"

"But we just need a couple of planks! And there's some right over there!" the younger said and pointed at something behind the Irishman.

Both Connor and the father turned their heads to look at the small pile of wooden planks and branches, then the Irishman finally put the shotgun down.

"Alright. Let's take a look at your car first" he muttered and animated the two men to go first, making sure that he could still keep an eye on them.

* * *

They'd been walking through the woods for hours now, and Daryl didn't even know where they were going.   
They had stopped because Merle needed a pee break. The hunter tried to use the time to find something to eat, but couldn't really find a damn thing.

"There ain't nothing out here but mosquitoes and ants" he growled and leaned against a tree.

"Patience, little brother. Sooner or later a squirrel's bound to scurry across your path" his brother answered, which made the younger Dixon snort.

Here they were again, just like they had left off. Merle might be his big brother, but once again Daryl was the one who had to do all the heavy lifting. Feeding them. Keeping them out of trouble. Finding shelter. Once again he was just Merle's _bitch_. Just hours of being together, and he was utterly utterly sick of his big brother.

"Even so, that ain't much food" he muttered and kept looking around.

Truth be told, he really regretted his decision to leave with Merle now. He was hungry, he was tired, and he even had to admit that he was actually upset. He replayed that last conversation with Rick in his head over and over again and came to the conclusion that the former policeman had been right. He'd been overreacting. A lot. Once again his emotions had caused this sort of mess.  
  
He'd gone with Merle because he had missed this bastard a lot during the past year. He'd gone with Merle because he needed a brother, a family. _He'd gone with Merle because Connor had disappeared_. And now that he thought about it, he couldn't help but agree with Rick. _Look, I know how much Connor meant to you, that this really is about him, that he's not going to be inside the prison when we get back. You saw the laboratory, he got out, he's_ out there somewhere _and..._

The hunter sighed and put a hand in his trouser pocket to fumble with the beads of Connor's rosary. _Exactly_. He had left and went back inside the woods because there was still that _slight_ possibility, that _tiny bit_ of hope that he might find that stupid leprechaun again. Maybe dead, maybe as walker, but he'd still wanted to find him. Because after everything they had been through during that endless and exhausting last year it really just _couldn't_ end like this.  
  
That asshole wasn't allowed to just stumble into his life to turn in upside down for a couple of months only to disappear just as abruptly. Just like Sophia he now needed to search the woods for Connor. But it had been hours now. Hours of just walking around, putting more and more distance between them and the prison and Woodbury, hours of finding absolutely _nothing_. No food. No shelter. No Connor. He knew what it meant. He knew how this sort of story had ended before.

"More than nothing" Merle answered and snapped Daryl out of his brooding.

For a second he couldn't remember what they had been talking about in the first place, but then it came back to him with a loud growl.  
His empty stomach reminded him.

"We'd have better luck going through one of them houses we passed back on the turnoff" he said, because now he came to the realization that they just had to head back.

_And what do you want me to tell Connor when he comes back to the prison?_

_Should he manage to get his stupid ass back to you, tell him that I don't need him no longer.  
That I got Merle now. That he should stay with you people._

"Is that what your new friends taught you? Hmm? How to loot for booty?" Merle answered, but Daryl ignored him.

Because now he couldn't stop thinking about it. _What if Rick was right? What if that dumbass had managed to get back?  
He had never really considered that possibility, he had never gone back to the prison to see for himself._

_Yeah, well. Connor ain't coming back._

He had told himself that over and over again, just to make his stupid decision feel right. He had assumed that, but the truth was that he seriously didn't have a clue. And sooner or later the not knowing was going to drive him crazy. Even after just a couple of hours he was already blaming himself for not going back and actually looking for Connor. After everything that bastard had done for him, after all the endless hours he had been with him instead of Merle he just owed the guy.   
  
Because if it weren't for Connor then he could have been dead by now. _Jesus. He had made a mistake._ He needed to get back to the prison. He needed to make this work. He had never wanted to choose. He refused to choose. He didn't want just the Irish weirdo or just his uber-annoying brother. He wanted them _both_.

"We've been out here for hours. Why don't we find a stream, try to look for some fish?" he suggested, hoping to get his brother back and closer to the prison without him realizing it. But of course, Merle wasn't that stupid. He was his brother after all, so he saw right through the attempt.

"I think you're just trying to lead me back to the road, man. Get me over to that prison. Back to your boyfriend Rick. Or the other one."

Daryl frowned. His brother was finally done peeing and knelt down on the ground to have a look at the situation himself.

"Other one?"

"Yeah, the one yah had to go back for? That whatshisname, Corey? The one yah called leprechaun? Who's that?"

Daryl just stared at a tree opposite him.

 _Name's Connor, you ignorant fuck_ , he thought and almost had to snort, because the just for a second he had to imagine the Irishman saying that out loud. Oh what he'd give to see that for real. Connor meeting Merle. That would be one hell of a show. But then he remembered that it would never happen,  
because Connor was gone and he was with Merle now.

"No one. Don't matter now, does it?" he growled, but Merle wouldn't let go.

"You hanging out with micks now? You really wanna go back to a group that's full of democrats, niggers?  
Thought I raised you better than that, baby brother."

"They got shelter. Food. A pot to piss in. Might not be a bad idea" Daryl countered and tried to ignore the fact that Merle had noticed that he was upset because of Connor's absence. The older Dixon just snorted.

"For you maybe. Ain't gonna be no damn party for me" he said and got back up.

Daryl shifted and aimed his crossbow at nothing in particular. He knew that Merle was right, but that didn't mean that this couldn't change. Back when the whole thing had started and they had joined the group he had been just like Merle. Antisocial, vulgar, aggressive, an ass. But that group had changed him for the better, made him better. _So maybe there was a chance that the same thing could happen to Merle, right?_ It just _had_ to work.

"Everyone will get used to each other" he said and got more confident.

He liked the idea of going back more and more. _They didn't stand a chance out here on their own, why wouldn't Merle get that?  
Why was his brother still so incredibly retarded and stupid?_

"They're all dead. Makes no difference" Merle said and Daryl froze, because this hit his weak spot. Painfully.

This was the one question he could never stop asking himself now. _What if the Governor got them all and killed them?  
_ His brother had to have a point. He had spent so many months with this sicko. Just like he had told Rick. Merle knew the Governor better than anyone else.

"How can you be so sure?"

The older Dixon was still standing right behind him, and Daryl didn't want to look at him.  
He didn't want Merle to see how insecure he really was, how upset, how weak and unsure. But he still wanted an answer, and he got one.

"Right about now he's probably hosting a housewarming party where he's gonna bury what's left of your pals."

Daryl didn't want it to be true, but he knew that it probably was. He had seen what Woodbury was capable of. Hosting death fights, torturing people, raping women, shooting people and keeping walkers as pets. The Governor and his people were crazy and obviously out for revenge. And then he remembered how this sick sick bastard had shoved that monster at his friend, remembered the bite, Connor's screams, remembered all the blood on the ground and bit his lip hard. He knew the answer, no matter how much he tried to stay positive.

His group was either dead or about to die. And Connor wasn't out here. Connor had to be dead. He just had to think about how he couldn't even be sure if the Irishman had made it out of Woodbury in the first place. He could have been caught. No wonder, considering how injured he had been. For all he knew he could be back inside that room now.   
  
Either dead or used as a test subject. _And everything had happened just because of him_. His own selfishness. His stupid desire to be reunited with his brother again. Well, he had him now. But he already hated Merle again. And he was far from happy now. He had to admit that even with his brother he felt more miserable and unhappier than ever.

_Well, Connor wasn't like Merle. And he sure was a better brother to you than Merle ever was._

He wrapped the beads of Connor's rosary around his fingers and pulled hard, and for a second he considered breaking it and throwing it away. But he did nothing. He just stood there and bit his lower lip hard, trying not to tear up because of the pain he suddenly felt. Oh freaking perfect. That asshole had turned him into a fucking wuss now. Maybe it was about time he finally got rid of him and the stupid influence he had on him.

"Let's look for some fish. Come on" Merle said and nudged his brother.

Daryl sighed and finally followed him, trying to forget his previous plans on getting back to the prison, trying to forget the people that had once matter to him.  
Merle was his brother. Merle was his family. Merle was blood. _Merle was all that mattered now.  
_

* * *

"Alright now, slow and steady! Don't let them spin!" Connor shouted and pressed his back against the back of the car.

They'd spent quite some time trying to get the car out of the mud, but without any luck. Connor didn't even know why he was trying so hard, but for some reason that car just really fucking mattered. He just had to do something good right now, he just had to help this family after everything he had done today. He still couldn't stop thinking about the man in the hut or his crazy attack in the woods.   
  
He didn't want to be like that, not at all. He wanted to be his old self, wanted to get it back. Connor MacManus, the saint, fighting evil bastards, doing hard shit. The reasonable guy with the plans, the one with the brain. He just had to get that bit of himself back, even if that meant that the evil bastard he had to fight right now was _freaking mud_.

And how evil mud really could be. Because it was sticky and dirty as hell, and because it just _wouldn't_ let go of the freaking car. _Why the fuck was this thing so keen on being stuck in the mud like that?_ They had been pushing and pushing for several minutes until the Irishman came to the conclusion that the two Spanish men had been right. They needed wood. Something to put in front of the wheels to get some more grip.  
  
The family had insisted on building that sort of temporary lane themselves, but Connor wouldn't have any of that. Pretty soon he was bossing the father and son around, because even after all these months of being without Murphy and living during the freaking apocalypse he'd never really lost this very character trait, the one his twin had always complained about. Connor MacManus, the bossy one. The one who knew shit and got shit done. They had managed to get his construction to work and now the two older men were pushing and pushing, whereas the younger man was sitting behind the wheel. He accidentally let the wheels spin, causing the mud to fly everywhere.

"I said slow and steady!" Connor yelled and the car stopped.

So much for clean jeans.

Both the Irishman and the father let go, and for a second the blonde just had to let his frustration out.

"Jesus fucking Christ, how did ye people survive this shit fer so long?! Completely fucking retarded that is" he complained in English and the father eyed him with a frown.

Connor just waved it off and pressed his back against the car again.

"Doesn't matter. I'll get you out of here. Don't worry."

The man just looked at him for a bit longer, then he positioned himself again.

"Okay. Here we go again! Accelerate, boy!"

He let out a relieved sigh when the son actually did as he was told this time.  
He started the car and started driving as slowly as possible, and when the rear wheels finally slid on top of the planks Connor cheered loudly.

"Yes! That's it! Keep going! Keep going!"

The car sped up without spilling mud all over them this time, and after steering around for a bit the son managed to get the vehicle back on the road. Connor wiped his forehead with his healthy arm and couldn't fight the grin that broke through. He didn't even know the family and knew that he'd probably freaked them out with the shotgun, but he was still happy and proud of himself because he had done something good for once, because one of his ideas had actually worked. He massaged his aching wrist and looked at the married couple with a smirk on his face as they kept thanking him over and over again. He smiled even more when he saw that the baby in the woman's arms had stopped crying.

"You're welcome. Better look after that little one over there" he said and gave the father and son a nod and turned around to make his way back to the hut.

Truth be told, he really needed to rest after all the stress. His whole body ached and he was still a bit dizzy and feverish.  
Connor startled and stopped walking when the woman suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder, the one with the bite wound.

"Wait, Sir. Please. Is there anything we can do for you? Thank you for helping my husband. Thank you so much."

The Irishman snorted and waved it off.

"Don't mention it. See it as compensation for the shotgun thing" he muttered and turned around once more.

He stopped walking when he saw all the walkers that were making their way towards them from all sides, the noise they had made for the past couple of minutes had attracted them after all. "Shit." he muttered and raised a hand to wave the family off.

"You're welcome. But I've really got to go. There's dead people all around us. You better leave, too. Good luck. And watch after the kid!" he said and picked the shotgun up, only to let out a pained grunt. His shoulder still burned like hell, and the dizziness was getting worse. He could hear how the family kept muttering behind him instead of getting in their car to leave, and that just pissed him off.   
  
Soon the first walker stumbled out of the woods and in their direction, but they just kept arguing over something. Connor made his way towards the walker and grabbed the kitchen knife to kill it, but he was having quite some trouble with carrying the shotgun AND the knife at once with just one working hand. _Oh Christ. This was going to be fun_. He still managed to stab the undead, more or less, and kicked him to the ground, only to realize that his cardio was pretty much at _zero_.

"I said go!" he yelled when the family still wouldn't move and watched him, although there were walkers coming from everywhere now.

"Papá, come on!" the younger man yelled and the older looked at his wife and baby, then he suddenly turned his head and looked at Connor.

"Come with us" he offered and the Irishman stabbed the next walker.

"What?"

"Come with us, it's not safe here!" the older man said as his son and wife made their way back inside the car.

"I know that, that's why _you_ need to leave! I'm perfectly fine, Mister! Now go!"

"Look around you!" the man answered and Connor did.

He could see that there were more and more walkers emerging from the woods, and although he still didn't know if they attacked him or not, he knew that it really was dangerous here now. He didn't have a car, didn't have a real gun, didn't have a group, no bag, no nothing. If there was one thing he really needed now, then it was a lift. Strangers or not. Connor looked around just for a second longer, hoping to find a way out just so he could handle things himself, but there was no such thing.   
  
He needed help, he needed people, no matter how much he hated the idea right now, no matter how dangerous they could be. Or how dangerous _he_ could be to them. But Connor still grabbed his weapons and made run for it, if only just for the fact that he didn't know what else to do with himself right now. He found a spot in the backseat next to the son and the father slid behind the wheel, then they drove off at full speed. Away from the walkers, away from the mess, away from the crime Connor had committed just a couple of hours ago. The father eyed the Irishman in the rear view mirror.

"What's your name then?"

The Irishman looked back at him and just thought about it for a while.

Here he was now, with some new people. Walkers in the rear view mirror. A roof above his head, food in the trunk, a family with a baby around him. No blood, no guts, no murder, no bites, no torture, no fights. Just the pleasant anonymity, the freshness after so many months of problems and running and chaos. This could be his new start.   
  
No one knew him. No one saw him as the clingy Irishman, no one knew about the fact that he had lost his brother and perhaps his mind. No one treated him like a freak or someone special because of this godless immunity curse. So he just looked at the man, considered his options, and finally made the decision. The Atlanta group had lost one of their members. Daryl had his brother back, so the fact that his best friend was lost didn't really matter anymore, did it? This was it.

For days now he had been talking about leaving, had been thinking about it and even tried it once. But this was his chance now. Connor MacManus, the man who had lost his twin brother, the man who had sinned for the past couple of months ever since the apocalypse had started, who had tried to commit suicide, who had killed an innocent man in a hut, was gone.  
  
Lost the woods after Woodbury had made a walker bite him. Everything was gone. He was gone. His photo, his things were back at the prison. His guns, the ones that had made him and his brother famous, the _Saints guns_ were gone. In Woodbury. One at the farm, the other in Daryl's bag. There was nothing left of him now. Connor MacManus was dead.

"Jacob. Jacob McGinty."

His grandfather's name, and the name of the bar in which he had spent the happiest days of his life. He looked at his broken hand for a moment, where the only thing that could judge him because of that lie was partly covered by the bandage. But he could still see it, still read it. _Veritas,_ it told him, judged him.


	37. Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 10 " Home"

His luck didn't last very long. Of course it didn't. They had been driving around for only thirty minutes when they were forced to stop the car. They were right in the middle of a bridge which was blocked with at least six or more car wrecks, one of them being a large truck. For a moment the Spanish family and Connor just looked at the mess, and when the father already considered leaving the bridge the Irishman asked him to wait. He didn't want to go back, because he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the prison as possible.

So he got out of the vehicle, taking his shotgun and the kitchen knife and made his way towards the other end of the bridge to see if there was a way through the mess, or maybe even a car he could use instead. There were many clothes and trash lying on the bridge, just like anywhere they had went for the past couple of months. The owners of the clothes and cars had long since disappeared, maybe turned into walkers, maybe dead, maybe still alive. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. What mattered was the fact they needed to get off the bridge.

He still hated to be outside for too long, stuck somewhere with all the undead around them, especially when he didn't own a decent gun anymore. The Irishman really needed to find a new one, although he didn't have a clue where he was supposed to get one. Police stations could be his next target. Or military outposts, barricades. That sort of thing. He just needed to get his shit back together.

Connor had reached the other end of the bridge where a small blue sign told him that the river underneath the construction was the _Yellow Jacket_. Great. He knew that one. They had passed it more than once on their journey all around the prison, which meant that he definitely needed to keep going.  
  
He could see a bunch of walkers coming out of the woods, but right now he didn't really worry about them. What really interested him was a police car, which had managed to go off the street and had raced all the way down the hill, only to collide with a huge rock close to the river. Police cars could always mean ammo, guns and medical supplies.

He turned his head to check on the Spanish family. The father and his son had gotten out of the car by now to check their trunk for something, and since they seemed to be busy the Irishman considered it his chance to check out the crashed car. He carefully made his way down the hill but still ended up slipping every now and then. As soon as Connor had reached the river bed he took another look around. He could see several walkers underneath the bridge, some of them stuck in the mud, others just mindlessly wandering around.

For a moment he just watched them to see their reaction. Two walkers turned their heads to look at him and even let out a snarl, but they didn't try to attack him or moved in his direction. _Right. So they were back to this again._ The blonde sighed and massaged his aching shoulder for a bit, wondering if the bite had made everything worse or if it was just temporary like last time. It still freaked him out, he still felt like shit, tired, dizzy, in pain and he felt sick like hell, but the fresh air was doing him some good.

He let go of his shoulder and headed for the car, grabbing the knife just in case. The car wasn't too wrecked, which was definitely a bonus. Connor tried the trunk but of course, that one was locked. He sighed and made his way to the driver's door, knife up in the air and ready to stab any possible walker which could be waiting inside. He wasn't surprised when there was indeed someone sitting in there, and he opened the door as silently and carefully as possible. The figure wouldn't move, and sadly it wasn't a police officer either.

It was a young man in maybe his mid twenties, who must have hit his head pretty hard on the way down the hill. The front screen was broken right where the man's head had connected with it, and there was dried blood all over it and the dashboard. The seat belt was still strapped around him.  
  
Connor took a look inside the car to make sure that there was no other surprise waiting for him, then he kicked the driver with his foot just to check if he was dead. The figure didn't move so Connor reached out to free him from the belt to get him out of the car. Just then the driver decided to open his eyes again with a tired groan, which nearly gave the Irishman a heart attack.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he exclaimed and kicked the walker again, who started reaching out for him with throaty groans.

Connor stood there and watched, his mind zoning out completely. Just for a second he was back in the woods, walkers all around him, with him. He could remember their groans and gasps just like the ones he was hearing now, remembered the looks on their faces, remembered all the tricks his stressed mind had played on him.

 _Help me,_ he heard the croaked pleas again and raised his head to look at the other walkers under the bridge. They all were staring back at him. No longer wavering about like drunks. They were just standing there, looking at him, pleading him. _Help us. Please. Help us. Help us._ He heard the whispers of all sorts of voices, whispering to him like witches in a dark forest. And suddenly they were all staggering in his direction, reaching out for him, begging him. _Help us._

The whispers sounded dangerous, and they were getting louder and louder, the "s" hissing with every word. And then there was the screaming and shouting, like there were countless people yelling at him at once, echoing all over the river. Connor startled when a hand grabbed his arm. He turned his head only to see that the young man from the car was holding on to him, eyes wide and yellow and milky. _Help me._

The Irishman fought the hand off with an annoyed growl and stepped back to stay out of the walker's reach. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to concentrate and breathe. When he opened his eyes again he saw that the walkers weren't coming for him at all, they were still under the bridge, and they weren't looking at him either. Just the walker inside the police car was still trying to get him, but since he was trapped he wasn't going anywhere.

Connor was furious. He hated the whole zoning out thing all the time, hated the freaky hallucination stuff, hated basically _everything_ about that stupid freaking bite. Last time he had been bitten the hallucinations had been a whole lot better, because Murphy had been there, but fucking Murphy was nowhere in sight. The Irishman grabbed the knife and stabbed the walker in the head, then he walked around the car to get inside through the passenger door.

* * *

They were making their way through the woods again, now that Merle had agreed to go and look for fish. Daryl knew that there had to be a river close by, the one they had crossed countless times before. It was the same one that was eventually leading back to the prison, but it wasn't like Merle knew about that, did he?

"Smells to me like the Sawhatchee Creek" Merle said as they stumbled through the underbush.

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"We didn't go west enough. There's a river down there, it's got to be the Yellow Jacket."

_And he had thought that walking around with Connor had been bad._

Merle chuckled and looked at him.

"You have a stroke, boy? We ain't never even come close to Yellow Jacket."

_Yeah of course. Because Merle, the very man who had spent months in a town like Woodbury, still knew his way around the woods. Right._

"We didn't go west. Just a little bit south. That's what I think" Daryl reminded him carefully, since he didn't exactly want to get in a fight over who had the better sense of direction right now. But Merle wouldn't be Merle if he didn't saw everything as a fight between them.

"You know what I think?" the older Dixon scoffed and Daryl sighed.

_Here we go again._

He looked up at the sky when he heard how a bird flew by. For a second he considered shooting it as a meal, but then it was already gone.

"I may have lost my hand, but you lost your sense of direction" Merle said and Daryl looked at him.

It made him angry how his brother kept bringing up his missing hand, like he was trying to make it look like it was all his fault.  
Yeah, he knew that his brother was missing a hand. It wasn't like he couldn't see it.

"Yeah, we'll see" he muttered and tried to leave the topic be with that.

But once again his big brother just wouldn't let go.

"What do you wanna bet?"

And there it was. Big brothers deluxe. Just like Connor back then, and now Merle, always with the goddamn annoying bantering.

"I don't wanna bet nothing. It's just a body of water. Why's everything gotta be a competition with you?" he growled and kept walking.

Merle followed him through the woods and started waving around with his arms.

"Woah woah, take it easy, little brother. Just trying to have a little fun here. No need to get your panties all in a bundle."

_Just trying t'make new friends._

That had been Connor's perfect answer to everything. Daryl couldn't fight an angry frown.   
Hours of walking around and he still couldn't stop thinking about this stupid Irishman.

_He is gone. Get over it, jackass. Merle's with you now._

And truth be told, Merle wasn't really so different from Connor.   
He was annoying, loud, stubborn, cocky and basically an ass.

Daryl stopped walking and looked around when he heard the crying of what sounded like a baby.  
He tried to make out the source of the noise, and it seemed to come from somewhere right in front of them.

"You hear that?" he asked and his brother stopped walking as well.

They both listened up for a while, then they could hear it again.

"Yeah. Wild animals getting wild" the older Dixon said and Daryl approached him, still looking around.

"No, it's a baby" he observed, and just for a second he had to think about little ass-kicker.

_Could this be? Was that her? Had his group really left the prison because of the Woodbury threat and was now out there on the road?_

Merle snorted and turned around to look at him.

"Oh come on. Why don't you just piss in my ear and tell me it's raining, too? That there's the sound of a couple of coons making love, sweet love" he answered and started swaying his hips.

Daryl just rolled his eyes and started walking.

"Know what I mean?" Merle called after him and started laughing.

The baby didn't seem to be too far away, and Daryl ended up jogging in the direction where he supposed the sound was coming from. The older Dixon finally followed him, still chuckling to himself because of his previous assumption. The hunter ended up running until they finally reached what looked like a clearing, and there it was, a river, and a bridge which led right to the other side. They could hear people shouting and yelling, and the crying of the baby wouldn't stop. There most definitely were people on top of that bridge, and one of them was still an infant.

The closer they got to the bridge the more he could hear it, the groaning and snarling of countless walkers, which seemed to be the reason why those people were yelling and shouting like that. Trouble was that this sort of noise only made it worse. Both Dixon brothers stopped walking for a moment to evaluate the situation.   
  
Daryl came to the conclusion that the people, which happened to be two men who were speaking Spanish, really needed help. They had managed to climb on top of what looked like a big truck, and there were walkers all around them. He wasn't sure where the baby was, but its cries were getting louder and louder. Merle didn't think the same way though.

"Hey! Jump!" he yelled and whistled, then he started chuckling to himself, which made Daryl angry.

_Correction. Merle wasn't like Connor at all._

Because that bastard wouldn't hesitate a second to go up there and help those poor bastards, just like he was going to do now.  
The hunter started walking and headed for the bridge. The older Dixon stopped laughing and looked at his brother with a frown.

"What?"

But Daryl kept walking. Now he could hear the screams of a woman as well, so he started running up the hill, through the woods, to the top of the bridge.

"Hey man, I ain't wasting my bullets on a couple of strangers that ain't never cooked me a meal or felicitated my piece. That's my policy. You'd be wise to adopt it, brother!" Merle yelled after him, but Daryl kept going.

* * *

_Who the fuck would put his gun under the seat?_

Connor tried to reach it, but goddamn, this one was a bitch. The fact that he could hardly see a damn thing made it even harder. He got hold of all sorts of crap. Wrappers, old rotten foot, even a goddamn old bubblegum. He kept touching the weapon with his fingertips, but it felt like it was stuck somewhere. _Jesus fucking Christ. He needed to get creative._ Connor let go of the gun with a frustrated sigh and grabbed the car keys instead to have a look inside the trunk of the car.

Once again there was all sorts of junk inside. Old bags with clothes and personal items, an old medkit and other stuff, but nothing really useful. He got hold of an old clothes hanger and came to the conclusion that this was his best option, so he took it with a determined huff and made his way back to the passenger door, whilst keeping an eye on the walkers. They still looked like they weren't really interested in him, which certainly made it easier for the Irishman.

He knelt down next to the car and started fishing for the revolver with the hanger, being well aware of the fact that the thing could go off any minute. But he'd rather get shot by a bullet like that than running around with no gun at all. He kept pulling and shoving until the weapon was released, and for a second he couldn't hold back the happy "Taha!" that escaped his mouth. _Things were getting better at last!_

Just then the screaming and shouting and most of all _shooting_ started.

* * *

When Daryl finally reached the top of the bridge he saw the problem in its entirety. At least fifteen walkers were surrounding what looked like a small family. A red station wagon was standing right in the middle of the road, with walkers piling up on it. The trunk was open, one walker was trying to creep its way in, while the others tried breaking the front window. He could see a crying woman inside the car and she was holding on to a small and incredibly loud bundle.

Two men, who looked like father and son, were trapped on top of the loading area of a large truck, the father on his knees as a walker tried to bite his leg. They didn't have any weapons in their hands, and Daryl knew that the whole family would be screwed without him. In just a couple of seconds. So he got rid of his backpack, threw it to the ground, took his crossbow and aimed it at the walker which was attacking the older man. For a second the two Spanish men looked at him in surprise, but Daryl didn't have time for any talk.

More walkers were coming at him now, and he knew that every arrow counted. He took aim at a young female walker and shot her in the head. The hunter turned around to see where his brother was, but of course. Just like Merle would react in a situation like that, the bastard was no where in sight and it was all up to him to save the day. _Again._

Instead of Merle there were more walkers behind him, who were slowly closing in on him. Truth be told, he wasn't used to fighting them on his own anymore. For the past couple of months either the group or Connor had had his back. No, if he was honest, Connor had _always_ had his back. Add another reason to the list why he freaking _missed_ the guy.  
  
So Daryl kept fighting on his own, using the arrow he had just pulled out of a walker's head to stab the next one with it. It was getting dangerous with all the walkers around him, and he knew that he just needed help. Since Merle was still nowhere in sight he looked at the other men, who were just standing there and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Come on, man! I'm trying to help you out! Cover me!" he yelled and the two finally moved.

One of them jumped off the truck to get what looked like his weapon, which was lying on the ground. Soon the other man started shooting the walkers on the other side of the bridge, so Daryl could fully concentrate on the car. His protector instincts kicked right in when he heard the baby cry, and just for this moment he tried to tell himself that this was little ass-kicker in there. Maybe with Carol. This helped him a lot and urged him to try harder, and it was rather effective.

He took aim at the walkers which were lying on top of the hood of the car, and with two loud _ZAPs_ they got arrows in their heads. Neither the woman nor the baby would stop crying, which seemed to make the walkers extra aggressive. There was one more male walker by the driver door and the other one in the back of the car, so the hunter went for the closer one first. He didn't waste time on actually shooting an arrow at the undead, he used the crossbow itself to bash his brains in instead. A wave of red and sticky fluid rained down on the car window and the woman inside screamed even louder.

More and more shooting could be heard and for a second Daryl was pretty sure that he could hear more than one gun. _Merle_ , he thought and growled as he made his way to the back of the car. _Fucking finally_. He grabbed the remaining walker by the back of his shirt to pull him outside the car, and after looking up he got an idea. He slammed the undead's face down and used the trunk lid to smash its head. _And yet another walker down_. It was a bloody mess with all the guts and skull pieces being stuck in the trunk like that, but no matter how sick and disgusting it really was, it still made Daryl smirk. _Damn good kill_.

He wiped all the blood off his hands and looked up to see how the rest of the family was doing, then he grabbed his crossbow which he had thrown to the ground. A female walker with shoulder long hair was right behind him, but he still didn't have an arrow in his crossbow yet. _Damn. This whole thing was getting pretty hairy_.  
  
He remembered all the times he had spent complaining about how Connor hadn't stopped following back at the farm, but right now he really wanted to take everything back. _He freaking needed that guy to have his back now,_ _how dare him disappear on him just when he needed him!_ The hunter stumbled backwards, away from the walker, and when he saw all the walkers behind him it was a bit too much for him for a second. _Jesus, the whole thing had looked easier than it actually was._

"Daryl! I got ya!" Merle suddenly yelled and his younger brother looked up.

He could see the older Dixon on the other side of the car, how he was making his way down the street like he was taking a simple stroll and had all the time he needed. Merle took aim and shoot the walker in the head right after Daryl had jumped out of his way. _Another walker down, six were left_. The father of the Spanish speaking family approached him just when Daryl was busy putting an arrow in his crossbow. The man started talking to him fast and sounded very excited, but the hunter didn't understand a damn thing.

"Speak English!" he yelled but the man kept talking.

Then a loud gunshot startled Daryl, because it had gone off right next to him.

"He said if ye touch his wife he'll kill you."

The hunter turned around abruptly, crossbow aimed at the person who was standing right next to him. It was impossible, but there he was, dirty clothes, messy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes which were staring at the walkers that were staggering in their direction. It had to be a freaking joke. A hallucination. Maybe he was going crazy just like Rick and the man who was standing right next to him with his gun pointed at the undead. The blonde pulled the trigger and killed another walker, but Daryl couldn't stop staring at him. _What. The fuck._

"Jacob!" the Spanish man yelled and was looking right at the blonde, now that he was struggling to fight the last walker.

The hunter frowned and looked at him again.

"Jacob?"

The other man finally looked at him and smirked.

"Howdy" he said and headed for the last walker to stab him with a kitchen knife.

He shoved him off the bridge and the father of the family they had just saved kept thanking him, talking to him in Spanish, but Daryl just kept staring. He still didn't get what the fuck was going on, how the guy was just standing there right in front of him, calling himself _Jacob_? He eyed the blonde head to toe just to make sure that he didn't face Connor's look-alike right now, just like he was Murphy's look-alike. But there they were, absolutely unmistakable.   
  
The tattoo on his neck, the tattoo on his arm, and although he could only see the last two letters on his left index finger, there it was, the Veritas tattoo. There was a bandage around Connor's left hand and the way the Irishman was holding it it looked like it was broken, and even through the shirt he could see the fresh wound on his shoulder.

The guy was absolutely freaking impossible.

He couldn't be standing there like that. _How was this even possible? That shit only happened in bad movies. People didn't cross paths by chance.  
And even if it did happen, how was this guy still alive? How could he..._

The creaking of a car door and the rustling of things made him turn his head and forget about the whole confusion for a second. He could see Merle, who was searching the back of the family's car now, ignoring the crying baby and woman completely. _Right. Merle._ _He had forgotten all about him!_ His brother kept searching, being the uncaring bastard that he was. The father of the family suddenly darted forward and yelled something at the older Dixon, who pulled his gun and aimed it at the man's head.

"Slow down, beaner. That ain't no way to say thank you."

Daryl just watched the whole scenario with a worried look on his face, the shock still paralyzing him. Merle turned his head again to start searching the car once more, now that it was obvious that the father wasn't going to fight him. The younger Dixon turned his head to check if Connor was really there, only to see that the blonde was gone. _Right. Of course it had to be a freaking illusion. It would have been.._.The loud click of a gun made him face his brother again.

"And that ain't no way t'treat a lady with a crying baby in her arms, don't ye think, _beaner_?"

Daryl widened his eyes in surprise when he saw that Connor was now standing right behind his brother, with a gun pointed at his head.

"Now out of the car. Hands where I can see them. Nice and slow, ye piece of shit."

"Con..."

"Now hohoho! What do we have here!" Merle interrupted him as he slowly got out of the car, with both his hands in the air.

Connor wouldn't stop pointing his gun at him, piercing his back with his eyes. Merle slowly turned around to face the Irishman, whereas Daryl tried to approach them carefully. He could almost taste the tension between the two men, and this wasn't like he had pictured their first confrontation. _Oh god. He knew Connor, knew Merle, but he seriously didn't have a clue how this was going to end._ For the first time he really felt small next to them. He wanted them to stop, but this was a clash of big brothers, _this was a fight over him_.

"Just..come on man, let's just go" he said, and didn't even know who he was aiming it at.  
  
He just didn't want it to be like that. Not at all.

Merle clicked his tongue and eyed Connor head to toe, an evil smirk spreading over his face.

"So you're the one, huh? The leprechaun?" he said with a chuckle and looked at his brother.

"Been making more of a fuzz over you than over me when I got lost. Hell, even went back looking for yah, unlike what he did for me...  
Thought you'd be taller. And a redhead."

He chuckled even more.

"But look at that goldyface. Looking like you're straight from a boy band poster. No wonder our sweet little faggy Darylena likes yah."

Connor just kept staring at Merle, and he was giving him _that_ look.  
The look Daryl knew all too well by now. The look that told him that his friend was in his freaking _Saint mode_.

"Let's just go! There's walkers all around us and we should..." he tried to reason with them, but Connor interrupted him midsentence.

"Shut up!" he yelled and Merle exploded.

"Hey! You ain't talking to my brother.."

The Irishman shoved the older Dixon against the car and pressed the muzzle of his gun to his forehead.

"And you keep yer fucking mouth shut and drop the gun."

Merle laughed even more.

"Hey, come on man! I'm his brother! Makes us best buddies by default, right? His friends are my..."

"I said shut yer fucking mouth and drop yer gun right fucking now!" the Irishman yelled and Daryl had enough.

He needed to get his friend out of his psycho mode.

"Just, come on, man. Calm down."

Connor turned his head and tried to talk to him, but Merle was faster. He used the moment of abstraction and grabbed the blonde's broken hand, using his other arm stump to knock Connor's gun out of the other hand. The Irishman yelped because of the sudden intense pain in his broken hand and didn't have the time to fight back, and just in a matter of seconds he was the one who's head was bashed against the roof of the car, the arm with the broken hand painfully pressed against his back and a gun to his head. Merle didn't get the chance to pull the trigger or hurt the blonde in any other way, because then he could feel the sharp end of an arrow, which was being pressed between his shoulder blades.

"Let him go."

Merle froze and snorted.

"I know you're not talking to me, brother."

Connor grunted underneath Merle's weight and still tried to fight the man on top of him, his teeth gritted and eyes watery because of the immense pain in his broken hand. Merle pressed his entire body weight against him, so he hardly stood a chance of actually freeing himself.

"I said let him go" Daryl repeated, his eyes fixed on his brother's back.

Merle slowly turned his head to look at him, but wouldn't say anything. And now the younger Dixon was given _that_ look, the look that meant that there was going to be trouble later. But he didn't care. He didn't want his brother and Connor to murder each other, so he _had_ to be the one to put an end to it.  
  
When Merle let go of the Irishman the latter backed off, holding his broken hand with an angry hiss. He was giving the older Dixon a death glare, but just like Merle he wouldn't do or say anything either. Both men were slowly walking away from the car, so Daryl turned his head to look at the Spanish family, which had watched the whole scenario without a word.

"Get your car and get the hell out of here" he demanded, while still pointing his crossbow at his own brother.

When the man and his son wouldn't move right away he looked at them again and got angry.

"Go! Get in your car!" he yelled and they finally moved.

The older man gave Connor a worried look, but the Irishman just shook his head and waved him off. The two men got in their car to sit next to the crying woman and baby, then they drove off at full speed. Merle and Daryl kept staring at each other for a little while longer, then the younger of the two finally lowered his crossbow.

"Go" he demanded and Merle frowned.

"What?"

"I said go. I'll be right behind yah" he growled and headed for his bag.

He gave Connor just the same angry look, but the Irishman wouldn't stop glaring at the older Dixon instead.  
Daryl put his backpack back on and turned around to look at his brother, who was just staring at him in what seemed like surprise.

"Said I'll be right behind yah! Now get your ass off this bridge!" the hunter yelled, because now he could no longer keep his anger in.

Merle just kept staring at him for a little while longer, then, and that much to Daryl's surprise, he turned around and headed for the woods.


	38. Goodbye?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 10 " _Home_ "

"Mind telling me what the hell this was about?!" the hunter spat and approached Connor, who was still massaging his broken wrist and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it's nice t'see ye, too" he answered, not feeling intimidated by his friend's sudden outburst at all.

"That was my brother you were 'bout to shoot, you asshole!" Daryl yelled and shoved his friend hard, ignoring the fact that it made the Irishman wince because he had touched his injured shoulder.

"And that was yer fucking brother who was about ta fucking steal shit from that family!" the blonde countered with an angry frown.

"That ain't any of your business!"

"Of course it was! Those people saved my ass out there when you were busy hopping through the woods with that abomination you call yer brother!"

Daryl looked at his friend in surprise and snorted.

"So this is what it's all 'bout."

"It ain't about anything but the fact that yer brother is a fucking asshole" Connor growled and knelt down to get the gun back, which he had dropped when Merle had attacked him. The Irishman let out a frustrated sigh when he noticed that it was broken, since the Spanish family had obviously run over it with their car on their way out.   
  
_Fucking perfect_.   
  
The Irishman took the gun and gave Daryl an angry look, then he made his way to the side of the bridge to throw the broken weapon in the river. The hunter just watched his friend for a moment, then he massaged the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. He hated how they would start fighting right from the off, although they had found each other just a couple of minutes ago.

"Look, I went back for yah. We all did. Really. But when we got there you were already gone" the hunter muttered and made his way over to the side of the bridge so he could stand next to the Irishman, who was looking at the river for a bit.

"Yeah well, I obviously got out. Got a trophy fer that" he answered and waved with his bandaged hand.

Daryl eyed his friend head to toe. Connor wouldn't look at him, but it was obvious that there was something bugging him.

"What'd they do to you?" he asked after a moment and the Irishman snorted angrily.

"What do ye wanna hear? That they probed my fucking ass? Sorry ta disappoint."

The hunter frowned.

"No, how 'bout the truth?"

Connor didn't speak for a while and scratched his nose. Then he sighed and shrugged.

"Don't remember a fucking thing. Only that I broke my hand ta get out. And then...nothing. I don't know how I got back on the road, what happened, but then that family picked me up and took me with 'em."

The hunter frowned even more.

"And you told 'em yer name's Jacob?"

The Irishman chuckled and nodded.

"Jacob McGinty. At yer service."

Daryl didn't get to ask why because then Connor decided to look at him and started talking instead.

"So you 'n Merle, huh. Dixon brothers reunited."

The hunter snorted and leaned against the railing.

"Pretty much."

"How'd you get out? Rick?"

Daryl nodded, but wouldn't look at Connor then.

"Yeah" he muttered and the Irishman frowned.

"Where are they then? What are ye doing here anyway?"

The younger Dixon shrugged.

"Could ask yah the same thing, _Jacob_. Seriously, what even is that name."

His friend just looked at him for a while, then he shook his head with a snort.

"They kicked ye out, didn't they? Un-fucking-believable. Not that I blame 'em, I just had the pleasure t'meet the ass ye call yer brother, but seriously. Un-fucking-believable."

Daryl frowned angrily.

"They didn't kick me out. They asked me to go with 'em. But without Merle."

"And you seriously left with _him_? After everything ye've..."

"Oh don't get started on that shit. What the hell do you know. You don't know nothing" Daryl snapped and Connor raised both his eyebrows in disbelief.

"This is my brother we're talking 'bout. Of course I chose t'go with 'im. You out of all people should understand.   
You wouldn't have done anything different if this had been about your stupid brother" the hunter went on and Connor growled.

"No, cos it never would've come t'this. The group would've invited Murph with open arms cos he's not such a fucking cunt.  
Did yer really forget about what he's done ta Maggie and Glenn?"

"Why do you think I went with him, man?!" Daryl yelled and Connor fell quiet.

The Irishman shook his head and looked down at the river again.

"Jesus fucking Christ" he muttered to himself and Daryl tried to stay calm.

He didn't want to fight with Connor, didn't want to be so angry again. He could feel how he was almost as tense as back on the farm, the incredible influence Merle already had on him again. He leaned against the railing and looked up at the sky for a moment, then he let out a sigh and tried to relax.

"So what 'bout you? You going back to the prison?"

"Ain't got no real reason to now, do I?"

Daryl turned his head and just looked at him, and then he saw the gentle smirk that crossed his friend's face.

"Jacob. That's my grandda's name. When I met those people and they asked my what my name is I thought that this would be a pretty good time fer a fresh start. That MacManus fella ain't got no reason ta go back to the prison. Cos that one got lost in the woods."

Daryl just stared at his friend for a little while longer, and he could tell that something seriously fucked up must have happened to the blonde, judging by the look on his face. It made him both furious and upset because Connor was obviously keeping the truth from him, that he didn't know what had happened to his friend back at Woodbury that he was talking that much crap again. He sighed and looked at the trees.

"Well that's a shame then. Sure was annoying as hell, but I really liked that guy."

Silence.

"A lot, actually" Daryl went on and wanted to mentally slap himself.

He didn't want to look at the Irishman, and he felt incredibly awkward all of a sudden.  
He hadn't meant it to sound like this, and he was pretty sure that his friend was going to embarrass the shit out of him in a second.  
Connor chuckled and looked at him.

"Well, 'm sure he liked ye as well. But I'm also pretty sure that he wasn't fucking gay."

Daryl chuckled as well and shook his head with an awkward smirk.

"Shut up."

The Irishman was properly laughing now, which made the hunter angry.

"I said shut up" he repeated and Connor nudged his shoulder.

"Just messing with ye, man. Relax."

Although it was embarrassing and annoying the crap out of the younger Dixon, he still had to admit that he had missed Connor's teasing a lot.

"What's yer plan then?" he muttered, but couldn't hide the disappointment.

The blonde sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"I dunno. Maybe back t'Boston I guess. See what's going on there now. 's not like I have ta fear the walkers. Or further West.  
I've always wanted ta see the Grand Canyon and shit like that. Kill some walkers Western style. Like Charlie Bronson."

"Huh" the hunter just answered and turned his head when he believed to hear Merle yell his name.

He couldn't see his brother, but he was sure that he was still waiting for him in the woods.

"You could come with us" he suddenly suggested, and didn't dare speak it out the way he meant it.

_I need you to come with us._

Connor rubbed his face with another tired sigh and shook his head.

"No. Sorry, man" he said, and it was very obvious that the answer hurt him just as much as Daryl.

The Irishman stopped leaning against the bridge and put his hands on his hips, avoiding eye-contact.

"Just like I said. This is a pretty good time fer a fresh start."

Daryl just stared, so Connor kept going.

"It's just...too much shit's happened ta me here. I seriously need a fucking break. It got too hot fer me here. The thing with Woodbury, the immunity.. I think people should not know about that. I'm better off on my own. I know I've been away fer just one day, but... Well I gotta be honest with ye. I liked that a lot more. Especially after.."

He stopped talking and rubbed his injured shoulder, remembering his crazy morning in the woods, the hut, the thing with the walkers by the river.  
He shook his head to forget the memories and nudged Daryl's shoulder.

"You got yer brother now, haven't ye? You don't need me anymore. I'd be in the way. Besides, I might just ended up killing him sooner or later because that fucker pisses me off like hell. We'd be constantly at our throats and it be either him or me in the end. Better stay away from all that. Maybe I find some trustworthy lab some day, maybe some day they can find a cure because of me. Would be stupid ta be sitting on my ass here" the Irishman said and chuckled to himself.

Daryl just looked at him for a little while longer, lips pressed together until he finally had the guts to talk.

"Right" was all he came up with, although he wanted something different.

He didn't want that bastard to go. Not after everything. Connor had a point, but he wanted it to work. He _needed_ it to work. But for months now the Irishman had kept talking about that, and if he really liked that more... Daryl clenched his fists in what felt like protest but kept his mouth shut. He wasn't the begging type. He had been begging him before, but only because he didn't want to be alone back then. But Connor was right. He had Merle now.  
  
A year ago he had been perfectly fine without that Irish bastard, he tried to remind himself, tried to think of the time when it had just been him and Merle before. But somehow that didn't make it any better. Connor looked like there was an entirely different conversation going on in his mind as well, like he was secretly waiting for him to say something, change his mind, but Daryl wouldn't say anything. He was too angry. The blonde nodded awkwardly, seemingly irritated by his reaction.

"Right" he said as well and for a while there was silence between them.

Then they could hear it again, how Merle kept yelling Daryl's name and threw insults at him all the way through the woods.  
The younger Dixon turned his head to look in his brother's direction.

"Right. Better get going, then."

Connor nodded.

"Right."

Daryl looked at him once more, then he offered him a hand.

"Watch your ass out there."

"Yeah you, too, brother" Connor answered and took the hand enthusiastically.

Just like any time the Irishman used the hand to pull his friend closer, into a hug. He patted his back a couple of times and already wanted to let go because he knew that Daryl hated this sort of thing, but was surprised when it was suddenly the hunter who held on to him and didn't want to let go of him just yet. _And fuck, how painful was that._  
  
He wanted to leave but he also didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with the man but he also didn't want to share him, didn't want to break his heart because he was pretty sure he would end up murdering Merle Dixon sooner or later. Out of jealousy or maybe because of the fact that the bastard really was a criminal fucked up asshole, meaning simply because he deserved it. And the most important reason of them all: he didn't want to leave Daryl because he looked like Murphy, because this would be the last bit of himself which he would leave behind. That face he had loved all his life, even after his brother's death. This was the last part of his life he was saying goodbye to now: His twin and his best friend. And maybe this was the right thing to do. Daryl had told him to let go after all.

"Right" he said again and patted Daryl's back once more, then the hunter let go of him just as abruptly as he had wrapped his arms around him.

The younger Dixon turned around and left without a word, and when Connor was already about to leave as well Daryl suddenly turned around again.

"Wait" he said and Connor looked at him in surprise, expecting it to be the part where his friend would start begging him to stay and make the decision to leave even harder. The hunter made his way back to the blonde and threw his backpack over his shoulder so he could search it, then he pulled a gun out, and Connor widened his eyes in surprise. _Right, he had forgotten all about that one._

"Here" Daryl said and handed him the gun.

The Irishman just looked at it, the Beretta that had once belonged to him before he had given it to Daryl back on the farm.  
Connor looked up with a frown.

"Don't ye need that?"

The younger Dixon snorted and put it in his hand.

"Still got my crossbow, right?" he muttered and put his bag back on. He then searched his trouser pockets.

"And I found this when we went looking for yah" he said and pulled the rosary out.

Connor couldn't hold back the surprised gasp that escaped his mouth.

"My rosary" he said and Daryl nodded.

"Figured you'd want that back" he said and gave it to his friend as well.

Connor took it and moved his fingers over the wooden surface of the cross, and there he could see them, the tiny letters that were engraved on the back side.

_CM._

_Jesus fucking Christ._

It felt like a blow to his heart and for a second he didn't know how to breathe.  
He had thought that he had lost it back in the woods or in Woodbury.  
But here it was. In his hands.

"Thanks. Shit, I thought I lost it."

"Yeah, looks like yah didn't. Anyway. Merle's waiting. Gotta go" Daryl muttered because he just needed to get the hell out of this place. He didn't want to endure the whole sentimental crap, didn't want to feel a damn thing, didn't want the Irishman to see that he was absolutely heartbroken.

* * *

" What the hell was that about? Shit you doing, pointing that thing at me?" Merle snapped at him as they made their way through the woods.

Daryl was having the lead, he had never stopped walking ever since he had left the bridge. He was upset, no _furious_ because of Connor's stupid decision, and he was just as pissed at Merle right now. He just needed a break from all the shit that had happened today, and the fact that his brother was giving him a hard time now didn't exactly help.

"He was just trying t'protect them. And they were scared, man."

" That leprechaun deserved a bullet to his head. And those people, they were rude is what they were. Rude and they owed us a token of gratitude."

"They didn't owe us nothing" Daryl growled and kept walking, but Merle wouldn't leave him alone.

"Yeah, you helping people out of the goodness of your heart? Even though you might die doing it? Is that something your Sheriff Rick taught you?  
Did that Irish freak brainwash you and make you do shit like that?"

Daryl finally had enough and stopped walking.  
He hated how Merle wouldn't stop annoying the crap out of him, hated how that bastard was still bringing up the asshole that had just left him.

"There was a baby!" he spat and turned around to look at his brother.

"Yeah see, that ain't about that drooling meat ball, I'm talking 'bout how you sided with that pansy-assed mick and pointed your thing at me, _your own brother,_ although he was the one pointing his water pistol at me! This is about you acting all weird because of that leprechaun, plottin against me, going back for him but not me..."

"Man, I went back for you! You weren't there. I didn't cut off your hand, neither. You did that!" Daryl yelled because he was finally fed up with the whole accusations.

He didn't understand why Merle wouldn't stop bringing that up all the time, making it look like it was his fault although he had absolutely no freaking idea how much he had suffered for the past couple of months because of that.

"Way before they locked you up on that roof! You asked for it" he reminded his brother and Merle looked at him in disbelief.

He chuckled slowly and shook his head.

"You know- you know what's funny to me? You and your little group are like this now. Right? I bet you a penny and a fiddle of gold that you never told them that we were planing on robbing that camp blind."

Daryl just stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"It didn't happen."

Merle snorted.

"Yeah, it didn't cause I wasn't there to help you."

This made the hunter even more furious.

"What, like when we were kids, huh? Who left who then? You wanna know the truth, jackass? I sided with that pansy-assed leprechaun cos he's been a better brother to me in just a couple of months than you were all your life!"

"What?" Merle yelled and gave him a death glare.

"Huh? Is that why I lost my hand?!"

And Daryl started yelling, too.

"You lost your hand cause you're a simple-minded piece of shit!"

He tried to walk away from his brother, but then Merle was already on him. He grabbed him hard by the back of his shirt and both shoved and pulled at the same time. Daryl let out a terrified gasp because he feared punches and lost his balance right then and there. He fell to the ground, his shirt tearing right along his collar. He could feel the sudden cool breeze on his back and tensed, desperately trying to hide his back from his brother, but it was already too late. Merle let go of him and Daryl turned his head to look at him for a second. His brother was staring at him with wide eyes, and the younger Dixon quickly put his backpack on to cover the scars and the tattoo on his back.

"What the...what the hell's this?" Merle asked in shock and Daryl turned his head for a second to look at him.

He was surprised that his brother didn't look angry because of the silly tattoo Connor had put on his back.  
No, it looked like Merle was absolutely shocked by what he saw, and it was obvious that he wasn't seeing the tattoo but the scars underneath it.

"It's nothing. Just a stupid tattoo" he growled and grabbed his crossbow and arrows.

"I ain't talking about..I'm talking about, I...I didn't know he was..." Merle stuttered and it was now really obvious that he was indeed talking about the scars that covered his entire body.

And Daryl could no longer hold his emotions back. Tears rushed over him because of the painful memories, how he had gotten the scars. Then there were the tears because he was back to this endless painful crap again. The beating, the fighting, the insults, the fear. And then the tears finally came, the tears he had fought back on the bridge because his best friend, that stupid selfish asshole, had just left him alone with his brother. Connor, that stupid asshole who had marked his back and would now never finish it because he was _gone_.

"Yeah, he did. He did the same to you. That's why you left first" he answered, his voice thick with emotion.

 _That's why everyone always leaves me,_ he thought and awkwardly tried to get his things back together.  
He still didn't look at Merle, because he didn't know what to expect. Another bunch of punches or real emotions. He didn't want to see neither.

"I had to, man. I would have kill..."

The older Dixon didn't speak on because right then a fist connected with his jaw. A second later he was thrown to the ground and grabbed by his shirt. Daryl turned around in surprise when he heard how his brother let out another awkward grunt because of a punch, and when he saw who was on top of his brother he widened his eyes in surprise. Connor was there, hovering over Merle, his healthy hand raining down on the man just a couple of times more until he finally pressed his left lower arm to his throat and pointed his finger at him.

"Alright. You listen t'me, you piece of shit. If I see you punch him, just fucking _touch_ him ever again, then I swear t'fucking god, I'll rip your other hand off with my bare fucking hands and break your jaw" he snarled like a furious wild animal and moved so close to Merle's face that the older Dixon was left no choice but look at him.

"Is that understood?"

Merle just glared at him, mouth and nose bloody because of the punches.  
When he didn't answer fast enough Connor buried his fist in his face again, and he was so brutal that Daryl finally knew how to talk again.

"Let him go!"

"Is that understood?!" Connor yelled in Merle's face, blue eyes gleaming with nothing but hatred and disgust.

He looked insane like that, to a point where even the older Dixon looked a bit intimidated.

"Go to hell" he grunted and the Irishman narrowed his eyes.

"I take that as a yes" he snarled back and shoved the older Dixon away. He got back up and pointed his finger at him again.

"One wrong move. One. Fucking. Wrong move" he warned him, his face telling him that he was far from joking.

The blonde finally turned around to look at Daryl, who was still kneeling in the dirt and stared at his beat up brother in shock.  
Connor approached his friend and tried to place a hand on his shoulder to help him back up, but then it was the hunter who snapped.

" _Don't_ you fucking touch me" he spat and gave his friend the most hostile and terrifying look he had ever given him in his life.

Daryl got up on his own and headed for the woods.

"Daryl!" Connor called after him and watched him leave in surprise as Merle got up as well.

"Where you going?!"

The hunter turned his head and glared at the two men who were staring at him, and he still could hardly hold back the tears because everything was _so fucking messed up right now_. He had never wanted it to be like this, hated to be in the middle of something as nasty of this. So he decided to do the only other thing he could do. He couldn't have Connor and Merle, he didn't want to leave either of them, so the only thing that was left was to leave them _both_. Head back to the group, where no one would start killing each other over him.

"Back where I belong!" he yelled back.

Connor just stared at him in surprise, Merle looked at him with a pained expression.

"I can't go with you. I tried to kill that black bitch. Damn near killed the Chinese kid."

"He's Korean" Connor retorted and both Dixons gave him a death glare.

"You shut up!" Merle yelled and Connor snorted but didn't say anything.

The younger Dixon didn't pay any attention to his friend, he was staring straight at his brother instead.

"You know, I may be the one walking away, but you're the one that's leaving – again" he said and just kept staring and Merle, and when his brother wouldn't say anything he started walking.

For a second it were just Connor and Merle, staring right at each other. Hatred written all over their faces, eyes challenging. Then the Irishman snorted gently and shook his head. Truth be told, he knew that he had been overreacting a bit, that he may have caused this whole mess between the Dixon brothers. But when he had seen how Merle had wrestled his friend to the ground, shirt ripping and the freaking _scars_ on his back he had just seen red.   
  
Because then he was no longer Daryl's friend but Murphy's big brother, and no one abused his brother when he was close by. He had wanted to leave at first, but now he no longer could. Daryl needed to be protected from that bastard, because he was pretty sure that Merle was going to follow him anyway.

He hadn't even made it off the bridge after Daryl had turned his back on him. As soon as he had touched his beloved old weapon again, and as soon as he had felt the rosary around his neck he had known how completely fucking stupid the whole Jacob McGinty idea had been. Because he wasn't Jacob fucking McGinty, the rosary and the gun told him that he was Connor fucking MacManus.   
  
Murphy MacManus' twin brother, and Daryl Dixon's best friend. He had remembered how his friend had clung to him during that hug, how he had made it very clear that he didn't want him to leave. And he didn't even have to say anything. Connor had followed Daryl back inside the woods, and as soon as he had seen Merle on him like that he had known that he had made the right call.

Connor turned his head only to see that Daryl was still walking away , and after giving Merle another threatening and challenging look he finally followed the hunter. A couple of seconds he could hear footsteps right behind him.


	39. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : between episode 10 " _Home_ " and episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

They couldn't even see the prison yet and still knew that something was wrong. Because there were gunshots. Many of them. Neither the Dixon brothers nor Connor had said anything since the incident with Daryl's back, but now the silence was broken by the older Dixon.

"Well looks like I was right. Cavalry's arrived t'shoot your friend Rick's ass" he said and chuckled to himself, which earned him yet another dirty look from Connor.

Ever since they were on their way back to the prison the Irishman had been watching Daryl like a guard dog, making it very clear with just his looks that he would not hesitate to punch Merle to a bloody pulp again should he even get close to the younger of the two. It wasn't like the older Dixon actually seemed to fear him, but somehow they had both silently agreed that they would probably get into a bloody fight as soon as Daryl was not around.  
  
This was the only problem the two men had. They both loved the younger Dixon, and neither of them really wanted to hurt him or get cast out. Because they both knew that Daryl was capable of that. So they kept going, and now that they had heard the gunshots the rivalry was forgotten for a moment. The three men walked faster and faster until they finally started running, now that they had heard what sounded like a large amount of walkers. They could even see them in the woods, now that the undead seemed to head for the noise, the exact same direction they were going.

When they exited the woods they could see the mess. Countless walkers were staggering all around the prison, even worse, the field right in front of the court gates. Daryl and Connor tried to make out how the undead had managed to get in, and it didn't take them too long to discover the hole. The front gates were completely crashed, and there was a white and red van standing in the middle of the field, with its back door wide open.   
  
Various members of their group were trying to shoot the walkers, but there had to be at least a hundred of them. One of their cars was driving down the road and it looked like Glenn was the one driving it. Then he could hear it, the terrified and exhausted yelling of a man, and when they listened up they realized that it was Rick. Connor walked up to stand right next to Daryl and nudged his shoulder.

"Fuck, look! It's Rick! Over there!" he said and pointed at a struggling figure by the fence, who was trying to fight off two walkers at once. Other undead were already staggering in his direction, and the three men knew that they couldn't waste any time. Connor grabbed the knife Daryl had given him and jogged towards Rick, and much to his disapproval Merle followed him with the pipe he had found on their way here. Daryl was a bit behind them because he wanted to use his crossbow.

Connor couldn't really run for too long, because the pain and dizziness and everything that accompanied the infection had gotten worse again. For a while he had just staggered after Merle and Daryl, being well aware of the looks his friend was giving him. They still hadn't talked about the bite incident and he didn't really want to talk about it, but he knew that sooner or later his real condition would show.   
  
As for now it was the anger and hatred that kept him going, because Merle Dixon used every opportunity to mock him, trying to find his weaknesses, trying to provoke the Irishman. Connor had made it very clear that he would not let Merle handle things the way he had used to, and the endless game between them was on. The fight over Daryl, the fight over who was stronger, better, the fight over who was going to win. And so it came that he did not allow himself to be weak although his body was telling him something else.

He had been bit more than 12 hours ago. Which matched last time he had been bit and collapsed. He was worried about the whole thing although it was quite different this time, but he simply could not allow himself to worry right now, because Rick and the others needed them. But the closer he got to the undead the more he got distracted by the new strange symptoms of the infection. The staring at him. The reaching out for him. The begging, the never ending talking and whispers.  
  
 _Help us. Come to us. So hungry_.   
  
And truth be told, he was freaking hungry. No, thirsty. He was just as thirsty as they were hungry. He was blood thirsty. But not in a way that he wanted to taste it. No, once again his urge to kill was present, and a new sort of anger was cursing through his veins. He needed to kill those bastards. Shut them up.

Connor was snapped out of it when an arrow suddenly flew by and hit the walker which was still trying to attack the policeman. A second later Merle was already on the other undead, and that incited him to attack as well. The Irishman approached the other walker to Rick's right and stabbed his skull with Daryl's knife, then he turned around to look at his friend's brother, who was giving him an evil grin.   
  
"That all you got, mick?" he said and chuckled even more. Connor just stared at him, then he suddenly lunged out and threw his knife right at the older Dixon, or so the latter thought. Merle instinctively dodged the attack with a surprised "What the hell!", but Connor had never really aimed at him but the walker that had snuck up on Daryl's brother. The two men still wouldn't stop staring at each other, and especially Connor looked unforgiving and almost psychotic.

"Ye better watch yer ass. 's dangerous out here. Ye can die a lot quicker than you'd imagine" he said and just stared at the man, making it very clear that this wasn't just a game. And the way Merle was staring back at him told him that the older man was thinking just the same.

* * *

Their cell looked just like they had left it, and Connor was even more surprised when he found his bag on his bed. The first thing he did was check for his picture, and he let out a relieved sigh when he found it. It looked pretty worn out and dirty by now, because he had been looking at it a lot for the past couple of months. For a while he just stared at the image with a sad smile.  
  
He had good days and bad days, and this was one of the latter. Now that he had met Daryl's brother and knew that there was a new invisible line between him and his friend he missed his twin _a lot_ again. So much that it hurt him more than the pain in his hand and shoulder. He remembered all the times he had seen and just known that Daryl had been jealous of Murphy, their tight relationship, but now he had to realize that _he_ was the jealous one.

No matter how much of an ass Merle really was and no matter how many problems he and Daryl had, the main difference between the Dixon brothers and the MacManus brothers was that Merle _was_ still alive. They had each other, and Connor really could no longer fool himself. Of course, things had changed since the farm. He wasn't so crazy anymore, so delusional. He -knew- that Daryl wasn't Murphy, and he had stopped pretending for a long time now.  
  
He had even stopped calling him Murphy, but there had always been that secret part inside him that had kept believing and telling himself that. For the past couple of months he had seen himself as Daryl's brother, simply because he -needed- to be a brother, but even that was taken from him now. It wasn't like his friend wouldn't let him or wouldn't want that, but Merle's sheer presence put an end to that, an invisible line that the Irishman could no longer cross.

For the first time after over a year he felt the loss of his brother at full force again, as if the older Dixon's arrival had made him lose Murphy through Daryl for a second time. The jealousy made him angry and violent, but at the same time just utterly utterly sad. He would give anything to get his brother back like hunter had got his brother back. The Irishman would even go so far and trade the whole group's lives just to get Murphy back.  
  
 _Because it wasn't fair._   
  
It made him so angry that he had encountered yet another violent and twisted asshole who was allowed to still be alive and fuck other people up in this world, whereas his beloved twin was _dead_. That an asshole like Merle was given his brother back after months and was allowed to be a big brother again although he did a piss poor job and abused his younger half whereas Connor, who had done _everything_ to keep his brother safe, was all _alone_ now.

And the jealousy wasn't even the worst part. No, as if he hadn't been through enough shit already he now needed to keep suffering, having been used like a monkey in a lab, breaking his hand and going crazy. It wasn't like he wasn't used to the whole hallucinating part by now. No, it pissed him off that even though he was crazy enough it had been days since he had last seen his brother in person, here in this prison, even if it was just another hallucination.  
  
Of course, he still saw him in his dreams, but that wasn't enough. He wanted _Murphy_ here. Not Merle. Not all these crazy walker whispers and god knows what kind of shit he believed to hear and see now. Even in fucked up shit like this his brother had to leave him, make it clear that he was all alone.

He startled when something was thrown on the top bed next to him and turned around, somehow expecting it to be Merle. But of course it wasn't Merle. It was Daryl, who was looking at him through narrowed eyes, then the younger Dixon just walked past him to get to his own things without saying a word. It didn't look like his friend had noticed that he was still holding the picture, so he quickly put it back in his bag and sighed.

_Right. So he was still mad at him because of the punching and knife attack._

Connor watched how Daryl took off his bag and then vest, which had covered his bare back until now. His shirt was still torn to pieces from Merle's attack, and as soon as the vest was gone the Irishman winced. There they were, the countless red scars underneath the tattoo which he had seen before but which still sent a shiver down his spine.   
  
He felt the need to instantly put a hand on this back again, to put some more ink on it, to make the terribly ugly scars disappear. The hunter got rid of his shirt and the Irishman was still a bit surprised because of the intimacy and how comfortable Daryl really was around him now. He kept staring at his friend's back for a little while longer and could see how tense the hunter still was, and he knew that it was his turn to say something.

"You alright?" he asked and leaned against the bed frame.

Daryl snorted and threw a new shirt over his shoulders.

"I ain't the one that got beat to a bloody pulp."

"Yeah, but you could've been the one if it weren't fer me."

The hunter turned around and glared at his friend.

"He'd never do this sorta crap."

The Irishman snorted and pointed at the several faint bruises in Daryl's face and on his belly, which looked like someone had kicked him and punched him there.

"Sure. He'd never do that."

The hunter growled and buttoned his shirt up in a hurry.

"You don't know shit 'bout us" he muttered and turned around.

"Then tell me about it" Connor answered and the hunter looked at him again, and it looked like he was really pissed by now.

"What do you wanna hear? You want me t'cry in your shoulder and tell you crap 'bout my daddy? That I wish I could be yer stupid brother instead? Your brother ain't got these scars, _I_ do, which makes it _none_ of your business, okay? I already told yah. I ain't gonna tell you" he spat and Connor just looked at him.

Daryl looked back at him, surprised that his friend wouldn't say anything to that just yet, so he kept talking and pointed at the blonde.

"Merle ain't your problem. I don't need yer help just cos you think I'm like your little brother or something. I ain't.  
Now leave Merle alone. I got it covered."

The blonde finally snapped as well.

"No, ye listen t'me, cos yer the one talking bullshit here. You got it covered my ass. Do ye really think I didn't notice the way ye clung ta me when I wanted t'leave you? You were asking me to help you with that, not ta leave ye alone with him. Don't think I didn't get that. And you think I didn't see the look on yer face when he threw you to the ground and fucking ripped yer shirt like it was a tissue? Get a fucking perspective on the situation here, man! That guy is dangerous, he is a sneaky bastard, he's abusive and he's got ye mindfucked. I'm just trying t'protect yer ass from.."

Daryl got so angry that he approached the Irishman and shoved him hard against the bunk bed.

"As if you didn't beat the shit outta me just a couple days ago!"

Connor shoved him back.

"Fuck you! That was something different! That was a proper fight between friends, but not the shit he's doing ta you, has done to you! Ye don't even have ta tell me, I just know that he sure as hell must've done just about the same shit t'you like you did ta me on the farm. And I get it now. You try ta excuse it, keep telling yerself that it's just a normal fight between brothers, that fists just gotta keep flying and that yer sapposed to hate them because they're family and because yer so fed up with them. And even when ye get that that kinda violating is far from the normal kinda bickering then ye keep telling yerself that it's okay cos he's yer brother, that ye love him, that you deserve it and all that bullshit because trust me I've been there myself on the farm with all yer bullshit. And I'm telling ye now that the way this guy treats you ain't normal and that somebody needs ta fucking regulate the guy and that I'm gonna do it whether ye want me to or not."

"I already told you, those scars ain't from him, they're from my father!"

"Exactly! Because that asshole out there didn't look after you! He's yer big brother, I'd never put a hand on my brother like that, and I'd never fail so miserably ta protect him! I mean just look at you, man" he said and pointed at Daryl's countless scars. "I can cover this shit up fer you with all the tattoos I want. The scars are still there. That's his fault. And it's about time someone teaches that fucker a lesson on how ta respect yer family."

And there it was again, the look on Daryl's face that was so full of hatred and anger, the one look that Connor hadn't seen in a very long while.

"So what do you want me t'do, huh? You keep telling all sortsa bullshit about how you are so much better than him, how you looked after your blood. Well look which brother's here now. You really think 'm gonna listen to some guy who keeps telling me stories about brotherly care and all that bullshit but who failed to save his own brother during the first _two weeks_ of the outbreak? _Merle_ was there for me when this shit went down. It's always been me 'n him! So don't you dare talk 'bout him like you know shit about him or me!"

The look he received for that could have turned boiling water to ice, but the punch that Daryl expected wouldn't happen. Connor just kept staring at him to a point where the younger Dixon felt uncomfortable and regretted what he had just said. He let out a gentle sigh. It was always the same with them. Always the same fights. Always the same insults. Always the same ways of hurting each other. He had found Connor two hours ago. Just two hours. And they were already back to this shit.   
  
It was an endless curse, and endless nightmare. He hated the guy more than anything, he was utterly utterly sick of his stupid face and accent, his story, his talk, but at the same time he couldn't even survive a day without him now. He hated how they couldn't be honest with each other, hated how their pride and so called masculinity would rather have them fight and hate each other than simply let them tell the truth. Especially now that Merle was between them.

"Just..Merle ain't none of your business. Live with it" the hunter tried to let it go and make his wrong choice of words any better, but Connor didn't seem to buy it.

The Irishman snorted and shook his head.

"Fine. Whatever" he muttered and searched his bag for a bunch of cigarettes and a lighter, then he made his way past Daryl to get out of the cell, out of the building.

He had to pass Merle on his way out. Of course he did. The group had locked the older Dixon in the front hall which they used as dinning hall, and as he made his way to the door he just knew that Daryl's brother had been waiting for someone to come and tease. Merle got up from the stool and whistled when he saw Connor, but the blonde ignored him completely.

"Well look at that, come to finish me off, blondie?" the older Dixon greeted him and wouldn't stop grinning, and when the Irishman passed him he stretched out both his arms.

"Oh come on, man. Don't be like that, we don't even know each other yet! Darylena's pals are my pals, remember?  
We both got a crippled hand, see, we got lots in common you and me! We're practically best friends already!"

Although Connor didn't want to he still had to snort. _And he had thought that Daryl's nonexistent humor had been the worst. But Merle was_ even _worse._ The blonde lit a cigarette and walked up the stairs to go outside, ignoring the older Dixon who kept yelling all sorts of things like "Hey! Virgin Mary! 'm talkin to you!" after him.

* * *

The group had made it very clear that they didn't want him wandering around outside when there could be snipers around, but he had also made it very clear that he a) didn't really give a fuck and b) was just as good a shot as them. He had taken one of the sniper guns and a pair of binoculars with him, but truth be told, right now he wasn't really interested in shooting baddies.   
  
He needed fresh air, silence and a break. It wasn't even because of Daryl's words. The Irishman was used to the insults. To the fights. To the accusations. Of course it hurt him every time his friend told him that it was his fault that he had lost his brother. But this was just another one of the facts that he already knew because he was thinking about them every day anyway. No. He had needed to get out because of that new sort of rage inside him. The anger and violence that had already scared him earlier this morning.

He still didn't know why he was like that all of a sudden. He had always been like that, a bit sick, a bit blood thirsty, a bit twisted. He had been a wanted serial killer after all. But this was something new. He had wanted to punch his friend for that remark. Hard. He had wanted to hear his jaw crack, and that was exactly the reason why he needed some space. Connor knew that this sort of thing would have been hypocritical, and it wasn't like he had never felt this way when Murphy had annoyed the crap out of him.  
  
But this time the urge had been way more present. Maybe it was just the pain in his shoulder, the headache and the freaky dizziness and craziness of it all, the fact that he was sleep deprived, having his first cigarette after hours and because of the whole Woodbury bullshit and jealousy. No matter what the explanation for that rage was, he didn't want any of it. He _needed_ to let go.

Connor sat down behind one of the cars and let out an exhausted sigh, while staring up at the sky. He was in a constant state of getting better and worse, still felt his heart pumping and the stitched bite wound pulsate with every beat. He gently put a hand on it and tried to massage his shoulder a bit, to loosen the tense muscles and give his abused flesh a break, but it wasn't really helping. He assumed that he had managed to get through the worst of it all on his own. No, he _hoped_ that.   
  
The Irishman was still trying to get an explanation for all the things he had done, seen and heard this morning, but he still didn't have a clue. Maybe because the bite had happened closer to his brain everything had spiralled out of control way faster and more intense, maybe because the virus or whatever it was had entered his blood circulation way faster than through his arm last time. And then there was still the most confusing question of them all, the one that he would never stop asking himself.   
  
_Why didn't it kill him._ It wasn't like he wanted to die, but it also wasn't like he liked that endless kind of suffering. Part of him regretted his deeds. How he had knocked that professor guy out and destroyed all the phials. Maybe the guy would have been able to give him an answer to that.

_They were allowed to torment them for five months, but not to kill them, and their torment was like the torment of a scorpion when it stings someone._

Connor shook his head when he had to think of that quote. He decided to no longer think about it now. He looked down on himself to see how his broken hand was doing. He tried flexing it and moving his fingers several times but only got a hot and sharp pain as answer. _Fucking perfect._ He wouldn't be able to use this one for a while.   
  
A strange noise startled him and made him look up, expecting it to be some sort of gunfire or anything. But there was nothing. The Irishman sighed and got up to put the gun on top of the car so he didn't have to hold it with two hands, then he had a look through the sight to eye the surrounding treeline. _Nothing_. Well, if you didn't count the bunch of undead that were piling up on their fences and still wouldn't stop coming from the woods.

Connor still managed to somehow hold his cigarette between two fingers of his broken hand and took another drag. Those Woodbury bastards were smart. He gave them that. At least some of them had to have some sort of military experience. Strategies.   
  
The whole walker-filled van through the fence thing could have been straight from a movie, like one of his own plans. His uncle had taught him and Murphy a lot about the war. Same thing with their father. It would certainly come in handy, but he also knew that this didn't mean they were on the safe side. They were _fucked_. And all the walkers were the least of their problems.

But it were the walkers that pissed him off the most, because they just wouldn't shut up. The Irishman let go of his gun for a second to rub his eyes with an annoyed growl, then he tried to concentrate again. He pointed his gun at the several of the undead figures by the fence, taking aim at each of their heads. Connor kind of wanted to pull the trigger just for the fun of it, but he knew that it would be pretty stupid to waste ammo like that.   
  
He sighed and kept aiming at their heads, pretending that this was some sort of carnival game, if only just to distract himself, trying to blend out the fact that he could still see their mouths moving as if they were talking to him. The blonde kept moving his rifle until the sight of one particular walker made him freeze. Black hair. Bullet wound. Deep flesh wound on his shoulder.  
  
Connor gritted his teeth and moved the rifle somewhere else to look at other walkers for a second, then he moved it back. But there he still was. A hand on the chain links, but not shaking the fence and growling and drooling. He was just standing there. Staring at him. The blonde sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. Then he rubbed his face and tried to look again. And he was _still_ standing there.

Connor turned around to make sure that no one was anywhere close, then he made his way over to the fence. He knew that this wasn't real. Of course he did. He knew that it was supposed to be a bad thing, that it was doing him absolutely no good, but that wouldn't stop him from looking forward to that kind of thing. Whenever it happened. No matter how scary or fucked up it was.   
  
Connor took another drag on his cigarette and stared at the dirty and bloody figure of his brother on the other side of the fence, and Murphy greeted him with that devilish bastard smirk that he had always loved so much. It looked even more grotesque because of all the blood, the bite wound and bullet wound, and the sane part of Connor was well aware of the fact that all the injuries his brother had were just a perfect projection of his own. Because he had a terrible headache, and because he had been bit in his shoulder, although not so brutal as the bite wound that had actually killed his twin in the first place.

"Even when yer dead yer a pain in the ass" Connor muttered through a cloud of smoke and Murphy chuckled.

He kept looking at his brother in a rather creepy way, but that wouldn't stop the older. Connor eventually smiled at his twin.

"I miss you, brother" he said and Murphy wouldn't stop looking at him.

"They're waiting fer you, you know. We're waiting" the younger of the two said.

The blonde frowned.

"Who?"

Murphy just stared at him and that smirk wouldn't go away. Connor turned his head to look at all the walkers that were shaking the fence, and much to his surprise he didn't hear them begging this time. _Guess one bit of crazy at a time_ , he thought and shook his head with a tired snort.

"Why don't ye just stop fighting it?"

Connor still couldn't stop looking at the walkers who seemed to ignore him completely.  
As if he was invisible. As if he was pretty much dead and part of them already.

"Stop fighting what?" he asked, but his brother would not give him an answer. Connor sighed and looked down to the ground.

"You were the one that told me ta keep going. And that's exactly what 'm doing. Gotta stay in this shithole fer a bit longer, aye? I came out first, I go out last."

There was silence for a while, and the older MacManus moved his cigarette through the fence so his twin could take a drag himself. There was a part of him that wanted to burst out laughing because the whole scenario was incredibly, incredibly ridiculous, but he just stared, watched his twin smoke. His _dead_ twin.

"Am I going crazy, Murph?" he asked as he took the cigarette back.

Murphy just gave him that smug smile he hated and loved so much.

"Going? Yer already crazy."

Connor closed his eyes with a smirk and then leaned his forehead against the fence.  
After that he put his hand on it, right where his brother's hand was.

"I just miss ye so much" he muttered and held his breath when he felt how Murphy leaned his forehead against his.

They were both breathing in perfect unison and wouldn't talk anymore.

* * *

A hard slap across his cheek woke him up.  
Connor's eyes snapped open and he searched his surroundings in surprise, only to fix his eyes on a plaid shirt.

"Hey! Hey, wake up! Come on."

Connor looked up and saw Daryl standing there, right in front of him, a flashlight in his hand.  
When the Irishman finally looked at him the hunter shook his head with a snort.

"Jesus" he muttered and eyed Connor just a second more, then he noticed that something seemed not right.

"What happened?" he asked and the Irishman rubbed his face with his healthy hand.

He could see that he was still holding the cigarette, which had burned down to its butt on its own.  
It was dark outside, and he wasn't sure if he had passed out or fallen asleep. Connor grunted and got rid of the cigarette.

"Fell asleep 's what happened" he muttered and tried to get up, only to fail miserably.

Daryl just looked at him with a raised eyebrow and the Irishman stared back at him with an angry frown.

"What?"

The hunter just stared at him for a second longer.

"Nothin."

He then offered him a hand.

"Come on now, get up and get your ass back inside. 's getting cold and dark out here."

* * *

He was actually surprised when he realized that Daryl had not left their cell. All his stuff was still there, and he had even put his things on the top bed. Connor eyed their cell, their things that were still there and turned around with a frown to look at his friend.

"You stayin here?" he asked and Daryl made his way past him to enter their cell as well.

"Yeah, looks like it, don't it."

"What about yer brother?"

"Ain't allowed to be sleeping in here just yet."

Connor remembered how they had passed the older Dixon on their way back inside, how pissed he had looked, remembered the mattress on the ground. Somehow it made him smirk. And yet another fight he had won. He knew that it was kind of ridiculous, how both he AND Merle were acting like children fighting over their favourite toy. But it wasn't like that would stop him.

He awkwardly tried to get rid of his ruined shirt which he had been wearing all day. As soon as he had freed himself he saw Daryl just standing there, looking at his chest, his shoulder with _that_ sort of look. He felt guilty. Connor looked back at him for a second, feeling uncomfortable because of the way he was being looked at. But he wouldn't be Connor if he didn't have to make a stupid remark on that.

"Like what ye see, Darylena?" he asked, but his voice lacked the teasing, the cockiness this time.

The hunter wouldn't say anything. He just stared at his shoulder, so the Irishman turned around to search for a new shirt, being well aware of the fact that Daryl was still staring at him.

"I'm sorry, man."

Connor froze but wouldn't look at his friend, who was now forced to look at the massive Jesus Christ tattoo again, who was staring back at him, judging him.

"What fer?" the Irishman asked although he already knew the answer.

"For getting yah into this whole Woodbury bullshit. Just a couple of months ago I told yah I'd never let that happen again, and now it's..."

"Oh do shut up" Connor interrupted his friend and turned around to look at him.

"Look at me, 'm fine. Ain't I?"

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, you look like it."

The Irishman didn't say anything to that. He grabbed a new shirt and pulled it over his head instead.

"What happened? For real" Daryl asked after a while.

Connor turned around to look at his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"You want me t'cry in your shoulder and tell you crap 'bout my daddy?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fuck you" he growled and suddenly approached the Irishman until he was practically standing right in front of him.

He grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it further down his injured shoulder to get a better look at what kind of damage the walker and Woodbury had done.

"Ow! Jesus, what the fuck" the blonde protested but didn't exactly fight his friend's hands off, although he felt quite weird because of it.

He still wasn't used to the whole Daryl actually seeking some sort of near thing, even though he was still helplessly and ridiculously rough and bad at the whole thing. Daryl took a closer look at the bite marks and the stitches, and when he looked up they were looking right at each other for a second. The hunter growled and let go of his friend, suddenly being painfully aware of how awkward the whole situation was.

"Looks like they stitched yah up. Yer going t'live" he mumbled and headed for his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to explain that Murphy bit for a mo. What I'm trying to show is like how Smurph's memory in Connor's head gets more and more distorted and distant, especially now that Merle is there and he can no longer pretend Daryl's Murphy. In previous chaps and the Salvy fic he's always pictured him perfectly  
>  healthy, no bite wound, no bullet wound because those were old memories, but now that so many months have passed he is actually letting go, which is mirrored in the way he's seeing him now. Dying, fading, dirty, violated, because this is his last memory of him.
> 
> He is letting go because he is feeling better than he was feeling in Salvy, but at the same time it's the exact reason why he's also going "crazy". He is really losing his other half, his better half now, and that is driving him a bit insane. I really hope you don't mind me playing around with that, fucking the guy up like that, but I find this sort of thing rather interesting. The responsibility and the curse that comes with the immunity, and how all that poisonous walker stuff does not exactly kill him, but does things to his head instead. And this was especially inspired by the Jim and Shane turning scene, because they were seeing the walkers and stuff like that. I wanted to expand on those little snippets, do my take on that.
> 
> And I seriously don't want you to think that I'm just stealing from Rick's crazy. Truth be told, I'm a bit helpless there. I didn't want to write Rick's crazy out because it is perfect and fits the storyline of Walking Dead, but I also did not want to write Connor's crazy out because of the things I just explained before, and because I seriously just didn't want him to be running around like a hypercheery happy alcoholic Irish bundle who won't remember his twin or be upset about his death even months after that, because the way I see it I think Murphy's death really would damage Connor in a way because they are so freakishly close. And also because that sort of family death has damaged his father in BDS II and the comics and I thought if someone in this family got the cray cray going on after losing someone beloved, why not expand on that in my fic that takes place in a world that's so fucked up anyway?  
>  But don't worry. He won't be too cray cray for too long, he'll get his shit back together, and I got a "nice" idea why.


	40. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **setting** : episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

The bed was shaking and creaking, and that woke Daryl up. It took him a while to come back to life, but it wasn't exactly hard since Connor wouldn't stop tossing and turning in the bed underneath him. It was still dark, and the hunter supposed that he hadn't slept for more than maybe two or three hours. He sighed and folded his arms, waiting for the Irishman to stop moving, but somehow no such thing would happen.

"Stop movin, will yah?" he growled and waited a bit more, but Connor wouldn't stop.

"Leprechaun!" Daryl said, this time a bit louder.

Still no answer.

The hunter let out an annoyed growl and grabbed his pillow to throw it, but when his friend would not react he finally had enough. He sat up and got out of bed, jumping down and landing on the ground with a silent huff. He hated to get woken up in the middle of the night and his friend deserved a decent payback for that, so he turned around to look at the blonde. Connor had his back turned on him but would move every couple of seconds, legs and arms twitching as if he was running or fighting in his dreams. The hunter supposed that it was another one of his friend's nightmares, but he didn't exactly care. He approached his friend and grabbed his shoulder to wake him up.

* * *

Connor was in Boston again. In their apartment. Just like the night before. He was lying in his bed, smelled his pillow that smelled of cigarettes and booze, but most of all: it smelled like home. It made him smile. The Irishman shifted a bit and noticed what had woken him up. Someone had placed a hand on his shoulder and was holding on to it. Connor sighed and placed a hand on it, since he knew who it was.

"Eh Murph, how come yer the first ta wake up?"

He frowned when he felt how the hand squeezed tighter to a point where it actually hurt.  
And what made it even weirder was the fact that he could feel how _cold_ the hand was.

"Jesus Murph, you can make yer coffee by yerself fer once, can ye? 'm trying ta sleep here you spoiled brat."

A low growl was all he needed to be wide awake. The Irishman grabbed the arm which was holding on to his shoulder in a matter of split seconds, and when he faced his attacker he let out a surprised gasp. He had been right, Murphy had been the one to wake him up in their apartment, but his eyes didn't meet equally blue ones but gray and bloody eyes that had once belonged to his twin brother.   
  
Except this was no longer Murphy, it was the drooling and snarling and biting monster that had taken over his younger half's body. Connor grabbed both his attackers arms and tried to shove him away, but his brother was too strong. The younger of the two Macmanus' tried to bite his throat, tried to bite anything he could reach as the blonde wrestled with him and tried to reason with him.

"Murph! Murph! It's me! Get..Get off!" he yelled and managed to get them both off the bed.

As soon as his back connected with the ground the scenery suddenly changed, he was staring at a dark ceiling and recognized the room. Their cell. They were inside the prison. His younger half was now lying on top of him again, trying to bite him with terrifying screams and snarls and Connor didn't have a choice but grab his twin by his messy black hair to yank his head back up.

"Don't! Brother, 's me! Look at me!"

But his twin just kept biting and fighting him. And once again he could see his wounds.  
The one on his shoulder, the bullet wound. It was impossible.  
He couldn't be attacking him. He was _dead_.

"Look at me!" he yelled and pulled his head even further back, but then lost his grip and yelped when his younger half buried his teeth in his left forearm.

The the scenery changed once more. He was rolling in the dirt, it was dark and cold, and when he turned his head he saw it.  
The dark silhouette of Herschel's farmhouse. The burning barn. And he felt how a walker was biting and chewing on his left arm.

"Get off me!" he yelled and managed to break free, spinning them around until he landed on top of the walker.

He pressed his bleeding forearm against its throat to stop it from biting him, but when he looked at the undead's face again he could see that it was. _.Murphy_. Staring back at him with wide blue eyes. Connor let go of his brother in shock. Then, without a warning, his twin lunged out and punched his jaw hard, which made the Irishman fall to the ground with a loud gasp. He landed face down on a very cold concrete floor.

"What t'hell is wrong with yah?!" he heard a voice say and let out a groan, because J _esus_ , his jaw hurt.

Connor turned on his back and grabbed his aching jaw, and after blinking a couple of times he finally woke up properly.  
When he turned his head he did not see Murphy but _Daryl_ , who was glaring back at him with an angry frown.

"You nearly choked me, you asshole!" the hunter yelled and kicked the Irishman's thigh hard.

They could hear the crying of a baby downstairs.   
  
_Right._  
  
They had managed to wake little ass-kicker up with all their yelling and fighting.

"Jesus" the blonde gasped and let go of his jaw to place his hand on his heaving chest.

He was still completely out of breath and his heart was racing, but he was slowly calming down.  
 _It had just been a dream. Just a dream._  
He placed his left forearm on his eyes to shield them for a second as he tried to calm down.

"One of yer shitty dreams again?" Daryl asked after a moment and Connor shifted his arm so he could look at his friend, who was perfectly healthy.

No bite wounds, no flesh wounds. No bullet wounds.

Daryl had managed to get back on his feet and was now staring at him, and after a moment of gathering himself the Irishman nodded and wiped his face with a sigh.

"Aye. Aye..." he mumbled and finally sat up as well.

The world was spinning for a second and his shirt was glued to his back, and his shoulder was still aching like hell. He still wasn't able to really speak although his friend was waiting for an explanation, and instead of explaining things the blonde got up with a grunt and headed for his bag.

"I need a cig" he muttered and heard Daryl snort.

They could hear how someone was talking downstairs, so they and the baby had woken up even more people. Connor searched his bag with shaky hands until he found the little package. He grabbed another slim white stick to put it in his mouth.   
  
Neither Daryl nor Connor would talk, and the Irishman took his time to light the cigarette and blew out some smoke after inhaling deeply. The taste and feeling of it calmed his nerves and pounding heart down, and he finally had the guts to turn around and face his friend. Daryl was just standing there, arms folded, looking both pissed and worried at the same time.

"Sorry man. I was just dreaming that there was a walker attacking me" Connor muttered and sat down on the ground in front of his bed.

He rubbed his forehead and took another shaky drag on his cigarette. Truth was that he was absolutely terrified. Not only because of this never-ending nightmare where he saw his dead twin brother, no, but also because this was the second time in less than 24 hours that he had actually attacked someone in this crazy state of mind, and that this time it had been _Daryl_. His friend wouldn't go back to bed again, he was just staring at him and the Irishman could no longer keep it in. He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh.

"'s not the first time something like that happened" he muttered and Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, I know yer freak nightmare spasms too well by now" he growled and Connor chuckled miserably.

"I'm not talking about that" he said and looked up to face his friend properly.

"I...I think I killed someone yesterday. Just..ah fuck. Just like that."

The younger of the two men frowned, but wouldn't move an inch. He was just staring right at him.

"What?"

Connor nodded and moved his fingers through his messy hair. He then took another drag on his cigarette and looked at the floor.

"Aye. That's the reason why I tried ta get away from the prison and all you people. I was.."

He looked at Daryl again.

"I lied ta you. I remember almost everything about yesterday."

Daryl just looked at him for a while, then he moved a bit closer.

"Fuck, I think 'm really losing it" the Irishman went on and tried not to think about it, but the images were coming back now.

Just like Daryl the man in the hut had been struggling underneath him as he had choked him and choked him and choked him and..

"What happened?" the hunter asked and Connor narrowed his eyes at him.

"What do ye fucking think happened?! Jesus fucking Christ.." he answered with an angry headshake and took a drag on his cigarette.

Daryl got angry because of this sudden outburst from Connor and headed for his bed again.

"Nah, screw yah" he growled and was just about to climb up the bunk bed when his friend spoke up.

"I woke up in this strange room" he said and the hunter froze.

"There were two guards there. And the freak with the glasses" the Irishman went on and Daryl let go of the bed to look down at his friend, who avoided eye contact.

"They'd tied me to that bed. Stuck needles in my arms and god knows where. I don't know. They'd taken blood samples.  
Stitched me back together. Poked the old bite and the new one with all sortsa wacky shit" the blonde explained and rubbed his forehead again.

"Then shit went ta hell when Rick and the others came ta get ye outta there. They left me alone in tha room, and I broke my hand ta get outta there.  
Then...nothing. Fer a while. I remember stumbling through the woods, and there were all sortsa walkers around me. And..ah fuck. 's fucking ridiculous.."

"What?"

The blonde looked at the hunter with an angry frown.

"I heard them...talk ta me. Asking me fer help. Begging me."

Daryl raised an eyebrow but decided not to say anything to that just yet.  
Connor snorted and took another drag on his cigarette to calm himself down.  
The crying downstairs was getting quieter as well.

"I know, sounds fucking insane. Just like I said. 'm probably losing it cos of this bite bullshit" he muttered and Daryl frowned.

"So yah killed them because they wouldn't shut up?"

The Irishman shook his head.

"No. It got worse. I reached a hut in the middle of the woods and there was someone in there. Some one alive. With a shotgun. He was trying ta protect his home. But I was so fucking crazy and confused that I attacked him. Just like ye a minute ago" he muttered and swallowed hard. "Only that I managed ta strangle him ta death."

There was silence for a very long while until Daryl let out a gentle snort.

"Shotgun? So it was self-defense. Don't be such a pussy bout it. People die. Happens all the time now."

"Yeah except that he was trying ta reason with me and he was begging fer his life, man. Fuck, I killed a poor innocent bastard" Connor answered and buried his face in his healthy hand. "I thought it was that guy who once tried ta kill Murph and I was so fucking angry and I strangled him and I _bit_ him, I mean what the fuck? And 'm seeing Murph all the time. Dead 'n bloody. Not just in my dreams like I just did, no. Really freaking here in the prison. Outside. The corridors, fucking _everywhere_. He comes ta me, asks me ta come with 'im. Join them. This bullshit inside me, it's fuckin..."

He couldn't speak on because Daryl suddenly grabbed his chin and glared at him.

"What the.." Connor mumbled, but his friend ignored him.

He looked him right in the eye, then he placed his other hand on his forehead.

"No wonder. Yer brain's getting fried in there, dumbass" the hunter growled and shoved his friend's head back.

"Ow, asshole!" the Irishman complained when the back of his head hit the bed frame hard.

Daryl ignored him and headed for his bag to search it. When he turned around again he searched a small plastic bag which was filled with meds.  
He threw a small bottle at Connor who caught it with a frown.

"Ain't no miracle cure or something, but should help yer stupid melon with the fever and the infection."

He then threw a small bottle of water at the blonde. Since Connor was using his healthy hand to hold the meds he could not catch it in time.  
The bottle hit his face and Daryl couldn't hold back a satisfied snort.

"Ow! Jesus!" the blonde growled angrily and Daryl gave him an evil smirk.

"Serves yah right, wacko."

"Oh fuck you sideways" Connor muttered and opened the bottle to take a couple of pills.

"Could've given me that shit last time I got bit, ye know" he mumbled and his friend snorted as he put the plastic bag away.

"Yeah, I ain't throwing that shit around like M&Ms. Besides, I wasn't gonna waste 'em on some dumbass that was pretty much dead already."

"Fuck you" his friend answered and took a sip on the water.

Daryl turned around and pointed his finger at him.

"And don't tell Merle 'bout it. In fact, don't tell Merle about the bag at all."

Connor snorted and got back up.

"Why, you no longer his drug whore?"

Daryl glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"Shut up" he growled and concentrated on his bag again.

Connor threw his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then he tried to moved it under his bed.  
He put the bottle on the ground and sat on the thin mattress whilst looking at his friend's back for a while.

"Hey" he muttered and his friend turned around.

"Thanks. Fer y'know. Asking. And giving me some of yer pills."

Daryl just looked at his friend, then nodded awkwardly.  
He turned around again to pretend that he was still busy with his bag just to hide the embarrassment.

"Well, we don't want yer worthless ass dying on us so soon" he muttered and heard Connor chuckle and shift behind him.

For a second the hunter actually thought that his friend had gotten out of bed again to do god knows what kind of faggy shit with him, hug him or god knows what he always did whenever he was actually nice to him, and part of him was actually surprised when he realized that he wanted that kind of thing to happen. But of course it wouldn't happen. When he carefully turned his head he could see that his friend was lying in his bed again, with his back turned on him. Daryl bit his lower lip awkwardly and then turned his head to have a look outside, just to make sure that his brother was nowhere in sight. Or anyone else.

He knew that this would probably be his last chance to be like that, because sooner or later Merle would move inside the cell block and make their kind of bonding and friendship impossible. Because his brother hated this sort of behavior, hated real sympathy and caring and honesty, anything that wasn't _masculine_ enough. He was pretty sure that his brother would beat the crap out of him and call him all sorts of women's names or call him a fag as soon as he saw this sort of thing, so he took it as his last chance to be honest with his friend.

"Hey, leprechaun" he muttered and Connor answered with a tired "huh", that kind of lazy answer he was used to by now.

"Just wanted t'say thanks, too" he muttered and shifted awkwardly, whilst still looking at the door every once in a while.

Connor turned around to look at him.

"Fer what?"

Daryl scratched his nose.

"For...y'know..."

The Irishman raised an eyebrow and the hunter sighed.

"For stoppin Merle and beatin some sense and respect int'him."

When Connor smirked the hunter felt even more awkward and got angry.  
He pointed at his friend with a frown.

"But it still ain't any of your business. Don't do that shit again. He got it. I got it. 's not like I need yer help there. All the time. Just..." he let out a frustrated growl and Connor chuckled.

"'s alright. Don't be thinking too hard, ye might hurt yerself."

The hunter narrowed his eyes.

"Fuck you."

The blonde chuckled once more and lay down again.

"Yer welcome, brother."

Silence.

Daryl was still looking at his friend, and although he didn't want to speak it out he still did it.

"And Connor?"

"Aye?" the blonde asked tiredly but wouldn't look at him.

"'m really glad you got your ass back here" the hunter muttered and then finally headed for his bed because this whole thing was getting pretty ridiculous.

 _Oh god, part of him really wanted Merle to come in now and call him a sissy and a fag._ Just so he could punch someone's face and get angry because _he was no fucking emotional princess_. _He was Daryl Dixon, for Christ's sakes! He was one tough fucker!_ He hated how much this stupid whiny leprechaun had changed him. It was about time that Merle was back to kick his ass. Connor was still chuckling to himself.

"Love ye, too, Darylena."

Daryl tried to climb up their bed and used the position he was currently in to kick his friend's behind as hard as he could because of that remark.

"Fuck you."


	41. War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

There was a group meeting going on outside the cells, now that they needed to discuss what was going to happen after the whole Woodbury incident. Connor had told them everything he knew about the town and what they had done to him, done to Daryl, and after Glenn and Maggie were done telling them their whole story it was pretty much clear what they needed to do. They needed to _leave_.   
  
Even Connor agreed with that plan and so did many of the others, but Rick didn't seem to think the same way. Everyone was still pretty much standing by their cell except for Herschel, who was sitting on the stairs, Rick, who was standing close to him, and Connor, who had positioned himself close to the door which led to the dining hall in which they still kept Merle.  
  
Daryl's brother was watching them with his ever-present evil smirk, and it looked like he certainly enjoyed the kind of attention the Irishman was giving him. Because once again Connor wouldn't stop watching him, ready to hold him in place the second the older Dixon decided to do something stupid. Daryl was watching from upstairs, arms rested on the railing, eyes narrowed at Connor, obviously warning him with just _that_ look _._

_Don't you dare._

Connor ignored his friend and pretended that he didn't exist.  
He eyed Rick instead, who was still talking to the others.

"We're not leaving" the policeman said matter of factly. Merle and Connor snorted.

Herschel shook his head.

"We can't stay here" he said and his daughter stepped closer.

"What if there's another sniper? A wood pallet won't stop any of those rounds."

"We can't even go outside" her sister joined in and walked down the stairs.

Carol, who was standing relatively close to Daryl nodded as well.

"Not in the daylight."

"Whatever we're gonna do, we don't have enough supplies and ammo fer anything. Fer neither staying nor leaving. Snipers and walkers out there or not, we need some people ta go out there, check the situation first, find the stuff we need, and then we can discuss that shit later. The longer we're sitting ducks here, the more likely another attack like yesterday's gonna be. Whatever we gotta do, I think we should split up" the Irishman suggested and everyone looked at him. Glenn was the one who spoke up then.

"And risk another bunch of people getting shot and overwhelmed? We lost too many people already.  
If Rick says we're not running, we're not running."

"No, better to live like rats" Merle joined in and Connor turned his head to glare at the older Dixon.

He approached him and looked at him through the bars of the door.

"You keep yer trap shut" he growled and Merle snorted.

"Or what, huh? You gonna clobber me t'death with a gold nugget?"

Connor hit the bars with his flat palm and was just about to say something to that when he heard Daryl shouting from upstairs.

"Leprechaun!" he yelled and Connor turned around to look up at his friend, who was shaking his head with an angry frown.

The Irishman growled and turned his head to look at Merle once more, to let him know that this was not over yet.  
But Daryl's brother was already looking at Rick and the others.

"We should've slid out here last night and lived to fight another day. But we lost that window, didn't we?  
I'm sure he's got scouts on every road out of this place by now."

The blonde MacManus stared at him but wouldn't say anything to that this time, simply because he knew that Daryl wouldn't let them fight and also because he kind of had to agree with Merle there. If those people were smart enough to use a van filled with walkers and snipers on their towers, then they sure were capable of that sort of warfare. Merle was right. They were pretty fucking trapped in here.  
  
Connor put his healthy hand on his hip and stared up at the windows but couldn't really see anything outside, but he was sure that there were some of the Governor's people out there. They needed snipers themselves. Snipers, food, weapons, people on watch. Standing here and just talking about it wouldn't protect them from anything.

"Yeah, we ain't scared of that prick" he heard Daryl say and turned his head to look at his friend, who was walking up and down top row of prison cells.

His brother wouldn't stop looking at the group.

"Y'all should be. That truck through the fence thing? That's just him ringing the door bell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place, shoot. He could just starve us out if he wanted to."

Maggie turned her head to look at Merle with an angry frown.

"Let's put him in the other cell block" she demanded and Connor folded his arms with a sigh.

"Look, 'm with ye on that. But we gotta admit that he's pretty much right. That truck through the fence idea..he might have the people and guns, but I don't think that he's the kinda person who just wants ta storm in here and kill us all. The starving thing sounds like a pretty good and efficient idea. And he looked like one insane and sadistic fucker. I'm pretty sure that he'd be capable of that. It might not be too late ta leave or try ta get some people outta here. We can't risk getting surrounded and overwhelmed. We need ta act _now_. We can take a couple of the riot suits from the walkers we killed when we took the prison. Send some of our people out there. Me, Daryl, Glenn, you, this asshole behind me."

Daryl nodded and looked down to face Rick.

"He's got a point."

"This is all you! You started this!" Maggie yelled and approached Merle, but Connor stepped between them.

"What is the difference whose fault it is? What do we do?" her sister exclaimed and looked at her father and Rick.

"I said we should leave. Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here" the old farmer suggested, but once again Rick ignored everyone.

He tried to leave, but this time it was Hershel who had enough. He got up from the stairs and started yelling at him.

" Get back here!"

The policeman froze and everyone fell quiet, watching the scenario in surprise.

"You're slipping, Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why, but now is not the time. You once said this isn't a democracy, now you have to own up to that! I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something."

Herschel and Rick just looked at each other for a long while, then the latter let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead.

"Alright..." he said and looked up to face the rest of the group with a nod.

"Alright" he muttered and then fixed his eyes on Maggie, who was preparing her handgun with an angry look on her face.

The policeman nodded once more and then approached her.

"Maggie, Connor, you take watch. Take the sniper guns, keep your eyes open, don't let your guard down, head down. Be careful - field's filled with walkers. I didn't see any snipers out there but keep watch just in case" he said and they both nodded. Rick then turned around to look at Daryl, who was making his way down the stairs.

"I'll get up in the guard tower. Take out half them walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fences" he suggested and Rick nodded.

The Irishman stepped forward so he could stand closer to his friend.  
Their newest member, the mysterious woman whose name was apparently Michonne, joined the circle as well and nodded.

"Or use some cars to put the bus in place" she added, but Herschel shook his head.

"We can't access the field without burning through our bullets."

Connor shrugged.

"We could stab all the walkers that are piling up on the inner fence and then I could slip through, kill as many as I can with a buncha knives just like last time. We'd save the bullets fer potential snipers and wouldn't need so many people fer the killing part. Just let me handle it."

Daryl thanked him with that look again, the look that told him that his friend didn't like the idea _at all_.  
But much to his surprise the hunter wouldn't say anything to that.  
He looked at the others instead. Glenn put both his hands on his hips and bit his lower lip.

"But that still won't solve the real problem. There's barely any food or ammo. And one side of the prison is burst wide open. I saw it yesterday.  
If the walkers can make it in here through there then this would also mean that the Governor's people have easy access to the tombs as well."

"Well then we'll just clear them out and seal it off. Been here before. We'll be all right" Daryl said and nudged Connor's chest, making it clear that he wanted to leave, but the group wouldn't let them just yet.

"That was when it was just us. Before there was a snake in the nest" Glenn said and Daryl froze.

Connor bit his cheek and rubbed his nose with a gentle sigh.

 _Here we go again h_ e thought and turned his head to look at Merle, who was still watching them through the door.

"Man, we gonna go through this again? Look, Merle's staying here. He's with us now. Get used to it" Daryl growled and glared at Glenn.

Ever since they had returned to the prison both of them had a hard time being around each other.  
Connor sighed and placed himself between them, back turned on Glenn and eyes fixed on Daryl.

"Just relax, aye? We can't exactly jump each other's throats now, we gotta stick tagether. Just try ta see it from his perspective, brother.  
I doubt you'd be wanting ta sleep under the same roof with them cannibals after they attacked you. So really, maybe we should.."

"So let him sleep in the other cell block if he gets his panties in a bunch over.."

"Hey, don't.." Glenn interrupted Daryl and stepped closer so they could get into yet another argument over Merle, but Connor wouldn't let any of them speak.

"ALL I'm saying is that Maggie's right, okay?! We should isolate him fer a bit, see how that goes and then.." he spook up and tried to place a hand on Daryl's shoulder, but his friend shrugged him off with an annoyed growl and headed upstairs instead.

"T'hell with y'all" he growled and left.

Connor watched him disappear in their cell and rubbed his mouth with a tired sigh.

Glenn wouldn't let go.

"Seriously, Rick. I don't think Merle living here's really gonna fly."

"I can't kick him out" the policeman answered and Glenn got furious.

"I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you!"

The Irishman put a hand up to calm them down.

"Look, Glenn. I get what yer aiming at. I'm on yer side. Really. That fucker deserves a bullet ta his head if ye ask me, but you gotta understand Daryl here. Even after all the shit he's done ta you, other people and even Daryl, the guy's still his brother. His family. Ye can't just kick his brother out and expect him ta stay with us at the same time. It's either the two of them or none of 'em. And we can't exactly lose any more men these days. Not now. We need you, Daryl, and fuck, we even need Merle right now. And I think that fucker's gonna do whatever is necessary ta stay with Daryl. He may be an ass to him and us, but those two are still brothers."

Herschel nodded.

" He's right. Merle may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to Daryl. And he has military experience."

"What if we solved both problems at once? Deliver Merle to the Governor. Bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce" Glenn suggested, which made Connor snort.

"You really believe that shit's gonna work?" he asked and the Korean frowned.

"Why not?"

The Irishman folded his arms and leaned against the staircase.

"I don't think the Governor wants a traitor or anything. Hell, I get people like him. They're sickos. They don't wanna declare a truce. They started this war or whatever it is in the first place. He needs a traitor on the outside maybe, ta justify his actions in front of his people, but his mind's telling him something else. Psychos like him? Hosting death fights with walkers and keeping heads in aquariums and shoving walkers at handcuffed people and killing anyone who tries to get outta his town? He ain't out fer peace. He's out fer bloodshed. Murder. Torture. Why do ye think he kept people like Merle?" he asked and nodded at Daryl's brother. "No. Shit won't end with him going back there. I say that now that they're concentrating on the prison and mobilizing their weapons and fighters all around us, we should sneak our way back inside their town and kill that fucker. Come up with a nice plan, element of surprise, bullet to the head. Nice and easy. Hell, 'm an expert there. The sooner we get back in there the better."

* * *

Connor was pissed. Neither Glenn nor Rick would do anything about the problem just yet. They wanted to postpone his idea, think things through, try to make things work. They had asked him to keep watch instead, to maybe take out some walkers and do the whole sniper thing with Maggie. It was fucking ridiculous.  
  
He hated that he didn't get to say anything, he hated how stupid decisions and all the sitting around was probably going to kill them all. _He should've walked away when he had the chance._ That was all he could think about now. But of course he would never do that, because he didn't want to leave Daryl, and because it was still his job to protect Lori's children. He had promised her that after all.

On his way outside he had to pass Merle again, who was sitting on the field bed and was currently working on his new hand replacement, which happened to be a large and sharp knife. Once again the Irishman tried to ignore Merle's usual insults and teasing, and once again the older Dixon wouldn't let go. Connor had almost made it to the door when Merle finally hit a nerve.

"Darylena kinda looks like your dead brother, don't he?" he asked and the Irishman froze right where he was.

He turned his head to look at the other man, who was still sitting on his bed.  
Connor couldn't really see Merle and what he was doing, but the redneck kept talking anyway.

"Skinnier. And a bit more faggy, though. Like some milksop" he went on and the blonde MacManus made his way back so he could face Daryl's brother.

"What did yer just say?" he asked in disbelief and widened his eyes when he saw what Merle was holding in his left hand.

"Got bit, didn't he?" the other man went on and chuckled.

"Where'd you get that?" Connor snapped and tried to get the photograph of him and his brother back, but Merle kept it out of his reach.

"Give it back, ye piece of shit!" the Irishman yelled and was just about to punch Merle again when the latter suddenly pointed his sharp knife at his belly.

"But I say t'you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable t'the council; and whoever says, 'You fool!' will be liable to the hell of fire" the older of the two men suddenly said and Connor stopped moving with an angry frown. Merle glared at him for a second longer, then he lowered his knife a bit and looked at the picture again.

"You're one of those Catholic fanatics. Aren'tcha. All them tattoos, the cross..the rosary."

The Irishman just glared at Daryl's brother, eyes concentrating on the picture every couple of seconds.

"What kinda sick games are ye playing here?" he asked and Merle chuckled.

"Figured that'd be the only way t'talk to you, mick."

Connor clenched his healthy hand to a tight fist.

"Give it back or yer gonna be spitting yer teeth out in a sec" he growled and Merle laughed and gave him that evil filthy grin.

"Oh I'd like t'see that. But first of all yah gonna listen t'me."

"And why would I do that?"

The older of the two pointed his sharp knife at the Irishman again.

"Cos you're gonna be picking your guts off the floor otherwise" he answered and Connor just snorted, but wouldn't say anything to that because he wanted Daryl's brother to keep talking.

"We ain't so different, you and me, you know. I might not be collecting gold nuggets, but I can see it in your eyes."

The blonde narrowed his eyes.

"I ain't nothing like ye."

Merle chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. But you got the same look. The eyes of a killer. I like that" he retorted and Connor wouldn't stop staring at him, eyes even more piercing than they already were. For the first time he seriously didn't get what his opposite was aiming at, so he just kept listening.

"You like to kill and torture people just as much as I do. Especially when sweet little D's precious life's at stake."

He looked at Connor's photo again and even dared move his finger's over Murphy's face, which snapped something in the Irishman's head.  
He tried to dart forward to stop the older Dixon, but then Merle already pointed his knife at his guts again.

"The difference between you'n me is that I can kill yah worthless ass. Baby brother will be mad at me for a while, but he'll eventually get over you. He'll forgive me. Whereas you.." he went on and Connor was just seconds away from punching him. "Kill me and he'll never forgive you. Cos I'm his brother. But you already know all that, don't you?" Merle asked and grinned even more. He looked at the picture after a moment and fixed his eyes on Murphy again.

"So here's the deal, Virgin Mary. Darylena may look like your brother, but he ain't your kin. Never was, never will be. He's _my_ baby brother. Don't think I didn't see what you scratched on his back. If I ever see yah near him again, if you ever touch him or call him brother or if yah ever try to turn him into such a pansy-assed, bible-banging potato-stuffed pussy like your dead brother, then I will cut you open and make sure you die _real_ slow."

And yet another stare down commenced between the two men, and no one would give in.  
Connor simply reached out to get his picture back, eyes still fixed on Merle's face, and if looks could kill then the older Dixon would be dead on the floor by now.

"You got no idea what yer getting yerself into" Connor muttered and eventually couldn't fight the aggressive and yet excited smirk that broke through.

The game was really on now. And he sure as hell wouldn't go down first.

"Now give me the picture, asshole" he went on and kept his hand up in the air.

Merle answered him with just the same blood-thirsty and intimidating grin and nodded.

"Very well then. Glad we share common interests, mick" he said, grabbed the picture and stabbed it with his knife without a warning.

He handed it over like that, impaled on the sharp instrument, and for a second the Irishman couldn't stop staring at it in shock. The blade had gone right through his grinning brother's face, which was now unrecognizable. Connor stared at the damage just for a second longer, then he absolutely lost it.

"I'll kill ye!" he roared as loud as he could and launched himself at Merle.

He grabbed the knife with his broken bandaged hand and broke it away from the older Dixon's stump. The field bed gave in under the men's weight as they got in a brutal fist fight, rolling around cursing and yelling and choking until the whole group stormed in to see what was going on. Neither Connor nor Merle were stronger than the respective other, although the blonde Irishman was a bit thinner and more battered because of his broken hand and bite wound.  
  
But it was the sheer fury that kept him going, the incredible heartbreak and hatred because the last image of his brother's face was just _gone_. He kept punching and kicking Merle like he had never punched a man before, and for the first time in his life he didn't want to shoot someone dead, no, he wanted to _beat_ Merle to death for that. Beat, strangle and cut, because then he got hold of the knife again.

He was on top now, he held the upper hand, he could do anything to him right now. He was just about to stab the older Dixon when he suddenly felt how someone grabbed his hand mid-air and put an arm around his throat, as they tried to pull him back, pull him away from Merle who was trying to keep fighting him as well.

"Let me go!" he spat and tried to fight the tight grip around his throat, and when he looked up he saw that it was Daryl. He grunted and got hold of his picture as his friend dragged him away, and when he looked at it again he could see it. There was blood all over it from the fight, but that wasn't the worst thing about the damage. The cut was unmistakable and ugly, destroying the grinning figure of his beloved twin brother. He glared at Merle again, who was fighting Rick and Glenn's tight grip and kept yelling at him as well. The Irishman managed to point a finger at him, his knuckles covered with the older Dixon's blood.

"I'll fucking kill you!" he yelled, but fighting Daryl's grip was useless.


	42. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

Daryl had dragged him half way out of the hall when Connor finally managed to get back on his feet and freed himself.  
He shrugged his friend's hands off with an annoyed grunt and glared at him.

"Let go of me!" he demanded and then tried to get back to Merle, but Daryl placed himself in front of him and shoved the Irishman back.

"No I won't! Get your hands off him!"

"I'm gonna rip his head off! Even if it's the last thing 'm gonna do, I'm gonna kill him fer that!" Connor yelled and tried to get past his friend, but Daryl wouldn't let him through.

The blonde went through yet another fit of rage when he saw the destroyed picture in his hands, and when he saw the looks all the others were giving him and especially _the grin_ on Merle's face he had enough. He fought Daryl's hands off and pointed at his brother.

"This isn't over yet" he growled and then turned his back on the group to storm back inside the cell block, picture still in his hand.

It was quiet for a moment, then they heard Merle chuckle, which made the whole group look at him.  
The older Dixon was busy putting the knife in his metal stump and wouldn't stop grinning.   
His mouth and nose was bloody, but that didn't seem to bother him.

"Talking 'bout snakes in the nest. You're better off locking that nutter in a cell, not me. Before he hurts som..."

"What the hell was this about?" Daryl yelled at him and Merle put his remaining hand up in the air.

"Hey, buddy, relax! I was just tryin t'make friends with your boyfriend, alright? No need to raise hell like that, brother."

The younger Dixon pressed his lips together and stared his brother down for just a bit longer, then he turned around to see where Connor was.  
Glenn stepped closer to Rick but wouldn't stop glaring at Merle in the mean time.

"Rick, I think this is the moment where we should put him in the other cell block. Maggie's right" he said and Merle looked at him.

"Why don'tcha just say it in my face, Chinaman? Spit it out! Hey look, we..."

"Shut up! All of yah!" Daryl interrupted them and looked at Rick and Glenn.

"I can handle it, alright? Merle's my brother, Connor's my friend, and they ain't your problem! I'll talk to the leprechaun and he ain't going nowhere!" he said and pointed at his brother, who was giving the other two men a mischievous grin, obviously liking that Daryl was siding with him again.

"You really think Connor's gonna listen to you even when he's a little.."

"Yeah, right. Boy's coocoo, that one. He tried to kill me!" Merle joined in and spit some blood on the ground.

"Shut up, bro!" Daryl demanded and the older Dixon approached him with his clenched fist.

"Hey, don't be talking to me like that!"

"I said shut up! I'm trying to get your stupid ass out of this!"

Merle kept yelling at him, but the younger Dixon did not care. Back in the old days he had feared his brother's outbursts like this one, especially whenever he had dared talk to him like that. But he wasn't like that anymore. Merle had always annoyed the crap out of him with his stupidity and ability to fuck everything up, and this time he wouldn't just take it anymore. Daryl ignored Merle and approached Glenn and Rick instead because this was way more important.

"What are yah talking about, a little what?"

Rick put both his hands on his hip and sighed.

"We heard you last night and.."

Glenn snorted.

"Yeah, _understatement_. He woke Judith up, and then woke _everyone_ up with his fit.  
And Maggie saw him talk to thin air yesterday. All I'm saying is, maybe Merle isn't the only problem you brought back from Woodbury."

Daryl snorted and looked at Rick.

"You can talk" he growled and then turned his head to glare at Glenn.

"He saved your ass, he went back for you, your girlfriend, me.."

"He's been bit!" the Korean interrupted the hunter and Daryl snapped again.

"So what?! 's not the first time that happened! He's fine!"

"Look, Daryl, all we're saying is.."Rick tried to reason with the younger Dixon, but the hunter didn't want to hear it.

He waved them off with an annoyed growl and turned around to head back inside the cell block.

" Yeah, stick it up your ass. I don't wanna hear it. Mind your own business with all y'all finger pointing" he muttered and left.

* * *

Everything was so wrong. So so wrong. It needed to be clean. Needed to be clean.

Connor was sitting on his bed, staring at the abused picture in his hands. Murphy's face was gone. Cut. Destroyed. Covered with blood.  
He needed to get it off. He kept rubbing and rubbing, using his thumbs, his palm, his shirt, but it just made everything worse. The picture was ruined.

"No no no no no" he muttered and tried to piece it back together, but his fingers weren't made for that sort of delicate work.

It was useless. Irreparable. The Irishman cursed as loud as he could and threw the picture away, then rubbed his face and tried not to lose it. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember it. Every last detail of Murphy's face. It shouldn't be so hard, should it? He had been with him for 36 years. 36 years of seeing that face -every- day. So he just had to remember everything. His smile. His eyes. The shape of his mouth, his hair and...fuck. He couldn't remember the details. _Why was it so hard to remember his face?!_ He knew Murphy's hair had been black, that his eyes had been blue, but fuck, so many people had black hair and blue eyes. What had made Murphy "Murphy"?

He cursed once more and grabbed the picture again to help his memory, but of course. The face was gone. And he couldn't remember. Murphy was gone. His voice was gone. His body was gone. His guns were gone. His knife was gone. His clothes were gone. His rosary was gone. And now his face was gone. The picture. And he had nothing left of his twin brother. Just like that.   
  
The worst part was the he still wasn't ready yet. He couldn't hold the tears back anymore. It had been a while since he'd last allowed himself to cry. But this was it. The pain was back. The loss was still there. Murphy was really dead. Another violent sob escaped his mouth, then he had enough and got angry. _No. He wouldn't have any of that crying nonsense anymore_. But somehow the tears still kept coming as he stared at the destroyed picture.

* * *

"What the hell did I tell you about..."

Daryl stopped talking when he entered their cell. He could see Connor sitting there on his bed, staring at a piece of paper in his hands. His eyes were red and a bit watery, like he had just been crying a second ago. When the Irishman noticed him he startled and sniffed awkwardly. He rubbed his eye and tried to hide the paper, but Daryl had already seen it anyway. The hunter just stood there and stared at his friend for a while.

"I thought you buried that" he muttered and Connor sniffed once more.

"Yeah, looks like I fucking didn't" he growled and then looked up to face Daryl.

"'m gonna kill him fer that. I swear 'm gonna fuckin kill him."

Dary just stared at his friend and then came closer with an outstretched hand. Connor didn't want to give it to him at first, but then he gave in. He handed the hunter the destroyed picture with a frustrated gasp and then got up to start walking up and down their cell. The hunter took a closer look at the damage in the meantime. _Fucking Merle_. No wonder Connor had lost it like that. The picture was pretty much done, Murphy's face was completely destroyed. The damage was striking, but just for a second he had to look at the part that was still intact.

Although his friend was standing right in front of him he just looked at him on the photograph, and once again he could see the difference between the Connor as he was now and the Connor as he had been back then, prior all this bullshit, prior the apocalypse. With that Murphy guy that he hated so much. Connor was grinning in the picture, eyes nothing but slits and wrinkles all around them. Hair short and spiky, sleeves of his sweater rolled up, showing the tattoos.   
  
No bites. No pain in his eyes. No invisible dark cloud above his head all the time. This blonde guy didn't look tired, didn't look worn out, didn't look hardened and moody and upset. This one was happiness in persona. He knew that it was kind of pathetic and whiny, but part of Daryl wished that he had known this Connor instead of the one who was standing right in front of him now.

He watched his friend and how he lit up another smoke, eyes teary and red, lips nothing but a hard and thin pale line. Even after so many months of being together the sad look on the Irishman's face still pissed Daryl off, sometimes so much that he wanted to beat it out of it. He thought that it was incredibly rude and unfair of Connor to never _really_ let him see that happy side of him, never let him get to know it.   
  
He didn't want his friend to know and he would never tell him that so directly, but part of him was actually glad that it was Murphy's part of the photograph which had been destroyed. Because the guy _deserved_ it. Because Daryl _hated_ him. Because _Murphy_ was the one who had destroyed his friend like that, not Merle. Because this dead guy's shadow was _so_ big that even now Connor could hardly see HIM, see Daryl Dixon as a person and not as a dead man walking.

"You know he just did that t'tease yah. You ain't gonna kill 'im. He's my brother" was all Daryl could say and gave his friend the picture back.

" _Yer_ fucking brother destroyed the last thing I had of Murphy. Because you made me bury his shit, and because they took fucking _everything_ from me back at Woodbury. And now I can't remember anything about my own brother and it's his fault! Of course 'm gonna kill him fer that."

""It's just a fucking picture!" Daryl yelled and Connor had enough as well.

"It's the _last_ fucking picture I had of him!"

The hunter shoved his friend with an angry growl.

"So what? If yah ask me, I wouldn't have done it any differently! It's about time that thing's gone! You promised you'd bury it!  
This is all your fault, not Merle's! If you'd buried it days ago then we wouldn't be having this fucking problem now!"

Connor shook his head and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Just fuck off."

Daryl clenched his fists and pressed his lips together. He was incredibly frustrated and mad at Merle for causing this whole thing in the first place, but he was actually even madder at Connor because his friend was so stubborn and kept lying to him these days. Especially about his brother. He hated how the Irishman couldn't see that all his mourning and keeping things needed to stop.

"Listen, I get that what Merle's done ain't right. But it's the right thing here. You need to stop that shit. You need to let go and bury it."

Connor just snorted.

"You're freaking people out. There's a fucking war coming, and we need yah."

Once again the Irishman wouldn't say anything as he tried to repair the damage on his picture.

"I need you" the hunter then went on and finally got a reaction from the blonde.  
Connor stopped rubbing on the picture and looked up, smoking cigarette in his mouth.

"So you better get your shit together" Daryl demanded and then turned around to leave his friend to brood.

* * *

When Daryl reached the hall Herschel was just done talking to his brother, so he waited until the old man was gone.  
Merle was sitting on his bed again, still working on his new weapon. When he noticed his younger half he smirked.

"Coming to tend my wounds, Darylena? Make me a cup of tea with honey, warm blanket..maybe rub my feet?"

Daryl approached his brother and and just stared at him.

"What the fuck was that about?" he asked.

Merle looked at his sibling and shrugged.

"Don't know what'cha talking 'bout."

"I'm talking about the picture."

The older Dixon grinned and then started working on his weapon again.

"That, my dear baby brother, is how you teach some faggy leprechaun a lesson."

The younger Dixon frowned.

"What?"

"I told that mick to stay away from you. You can thank me later."

The hunter snorted and folded his arms.

"We back to this shit? I ain't seven anymore. Who I hang out with ain't none of your concern."

Merle suddenly started laughing and looked at his brother.

"Hang out? This is what yah call hanging out? You ain't foolin no one, Darylena" he said and spit on the ground.

He then started polishing his knife.

"Well, that stops now. All the touching and staring and god knows what kinda disgusting bullshit yah two've been doing when I wasn't there to watch over your ass. I mean was that him? On your back? Those faggy wings? He turning you into some sweet butterfly now? Ain't no way 'm letting some mick destroy all the work I've put in you, all them years I spent trying to make a man of you."

Daryl gritted his teeth and growled.

"It ain't like that. Besides, even if it were, it ain't your cake. You don't know shit about him man, you weren't there!"

Merle turned his head and looked at him once more.

"Oh yeah, _of course_ I know what's been going on. That leprechaun thinks you're his bro, huh? He lost his brother, you yours, and you two found each other like Bonny and Clyde. I bet the two of yah cried in each other's shoulder, and you ungrateful little bastard told him all sortsa things about your old bro Merle. What didcha say back at the river? Oh right. He's been a better brother to you than me, right? That what your friend Rick and his gang keep telling you?"

Daryl just stared at him.

"Shut up."

"You don't need him, baby brother. Ain't nobody going to care about you except me" Merle muttered and the younger Dixon swallowed.

It was exactly like he had pictured it back in the days when he had fallen off the horse.

"Just keep your hands off him."

Merle snorted.

"Don't need to. He'll be keeping his hands off you now if he's smart. Besides...hey! Don't be turning your back on me when I'm talking to you!" Merle suddenly yelled and got up, but once again his younger half did not stop, did not listen to him, did not fear him, no matter how many times the older Dixon yelled his name. Daryl just kept walking until he was back inside the cell block, back with the people he now considered his _real_ family.   
  
He knew that Carol was right, and he knew that he needed to do something about the whole crap that was going on because of him and his stupid brother. When the hunter couldn't find his friend in their cell he approached Rick and Herschel, who were discussing something.

"Hey, you seen Connor somewhere?" he asked but neither of them had an answer, which made Daryl even more suspicious.

 _Damn, in what kind of trouble had the stupid Irishman managed to get himself into now?_  
He turned his head when he heard the creaking of the door, only to see that it was Beth.  
He approached Herschel's daughter and rubbed his chin with a worried look on his face.

"Hey, Beth. Have you been outside with your sister?"

The girl nodded with a confused frown.

"Yes, I just brought her a water bottle. Why?"

"Have you seen Connor out there?"

The blonde nodded.

"He just passed me on my way back in. I think he wanted to take over watch."


	43. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **setting:** episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

"Are you sure?" Maggie asked with a worried look on her face, and Connor just nodded.

"Aye. I got it covered. Don't worry."

"What about your shoulder?"

"Don't need that ta shoot some evil bastard. Trust me. Go inside. Those people need ye. I got it covered. I need ta be on my own fer a bit."

Herschel's daughter stared at him for just a moment longer, then he finally handed him the rifle.

"Keep an eye on the right side. I think I saw something over there" she suggested and Connor just nodded.

He put his smoke back in his mouth and checked the gun's magazine and sight.

"Sure."

He waited for several minutes after the door was shut behind him, then he made his way over to the fence. He walked down the yard until he was just about the same height as all the graves on the meadow, until he was standing right in front of the lonely dark figure he had seen ever since he had stepped out of the cell block. Once again he was greeted with that same tired and yet smug smirk, and once again his heart missed a painful beat. The figure looked even worse today. Worn out. Battered. Bloody. Pale. Lifeless. The only thing that screamed alive! at him was the smile, and the glint in the eyes that matched his own.

Both brothers just stood opposite each other for a while, the only thing that gave away that Murphy was just an illusion was the fact that he wasn't blinking at all. Connor took his time until he finished his smoke, and once he had thrown it to the ground and stepped on it he finally had the guts to talk.

"Remember when we were six and we were playin in front of our house and we were playing cops and robbers?"

Murphy just stared at him, occasionally biting his lips and smirking the way he had always done it when he was amused.

"You stormed out on te street, nearly got hit by a car. Ma was screaming bloody murder cos ye were always like a freaking magnet ta danger. And that was it. That was the day when I understood that it was my job ta protect you. Gangsters who want ta shoot ye in the head, prisoners who want ta strangle and rape yah, walkers who get hold of you and bite ye. It was always you who needed ta be protected. And I was always there ta save you until that day in Boston."

The Irishman sighed and grabbed the fence with his healthy hand. He then looked down at the ground and closed his eyes.

"And then I failed ye. I couldn't protect you, and yer died."

It almost made him cry again, but he forced himself not to. He looked up instead since he knew that this would be the last time he saw his beloved twin brother.

"But I know now that it wasn't my fault. I really believe it now. Back on te farm, when I first tried ta bury you I didn't even believe it myself."

"And then I told ye ta stop fighting it" Murphy finally spoke and Connor nodded.

"Aye. And I know what it means now. I do."

The younger MacManus nodded and placed his hand on the fence as well.

"Remember what god told us back at te police station?"

Connor just looked at his twin.

"Destroy that which is evil. So that which is good..."

"..may flourish" Connor finished the sentence and Murphy nodded once more.

"I'm the evil part, Connor."

The older shook his head.

"Yer not evil, yer my brother and.."

"And sooner or later 'm gonna destroy ye if we keep going like this. Look at me, brother."

Connor looked his twin in the eye then and swallowed hard.

"You need ta let go. You got other people who care about ye and need you now."

They wouldn't break eye contact until Connor reached inside the back pocket of his jeans and got the picture out. He looked at it and rubbed the destroyed part, hoping to get it back together, but it didn't really matter because Murphy was standing right in front of him anyway. He then had to think about everything that had happened during the last couple of days. He remembered all the deaths, remembered that there were people inside who were fearing for their lives. Women. Children. Judith. Carl. Daryl.

_There's a fucking war coming. We need you._

I need you.

He swallowed hard.

"If I get rid of this, then you'll be gone, won't ye."

Murphy nodded.

"Aye."

Connor nodded and chewed on his upper lip.

"Then there's nothing left of you."

"You need ta let me go. Ye need ta give us some peace, Connor. I died more than one year ago. It's time. Ye don't need me anymore."

Connor kept nodding and the tears finally came.

"Aye. Aye."

It was quiet for a very long while as the older of the two MacManus twins kept staring at the destroyed picture and tried to gather strength for what he was about to do. He looked up to face his twin once more, more tears running down his cheeks since he didn't fight them any longer.

"Before ye go, I just wanted t'tell ye that I loved ye so so fucking _much,_ Murph."

Murphy smiled tiredly.

"Ye don't have te tell me, stupid."

"It's been an honor being yer twin brother."

Connor took a deep and shaky breath and then searched his other pocket, the one in which he kept his lighter. The one with the clover.  
He looked at his brother once more and swallowed hard.

"Say hello t'Ma and the others, will ye?"

Murphy nodded and just watched him. He would not cry, he would not smile, he was just waiting for his brother to finish it. Connor took all the strength he could gather, then he flicked on the lighter with his healthy hand, and after staring at the picture for just a minute more he finally held it just above the flame until it caught fire. He held the burning paper in his hands and watched it disappear. All the grinning faces in the background. Faces of their friends. Doc.  
  
Murphy's figure, the black sweater that had always been too large for him. The arm around his hip, then his own figure until he had to drop the burning photograph on the ground. No sobs would escape his mouth, he wouldn't breathe or do anything apart from staring at the fading memory. In just one minute the last evidence that Murphy MacManus had once been alive burnt down to nothing, and when Connor raised his head to look at his twin once more he had to realize that his twin was gone. And this time he could really feel it.

He took another shaky deep breath and wiped the tears away, and when he turned around he was surprised to see Daryl standing there, eyes widened in surprise. Both men just looked at each other for a while and this was the worst part. Because after everything he had done, everything he had buried, burned and said goodbye to, there was one thing that would never stop being there: the fact that Daryl had Murphy's face.  
  
But even then it wasn't Murphy anymore, it was in fact far away from Murphy's appearance, his presence. Now it was just Daryl. Daryl Dixon, who had blue eyes and dark hair and a couple of tattoos. But he wasn't his twin, he wasn't his brother. He just was his friend. Connor sniffed and started walking to get back to his post and Daryl just stared at the bits of ash that flew away in the wind. The Irishman was just passing him when the hunter suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Hey" he muttered and Connor looked at him, eyes still red and this time obviously not hiding the fact that he was extremely upset and heartbroken.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Really."

The blonde just nodded and was just about to walk away again, but then he was already being pulled back again.  
And for the first time it was actually Daryl who started the hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be the last chapter where Murphy makes a "real" appearance, meaning this is the last time where he gets to "interact" with Connor. The hallucination stuff will stop from now on, I'm not sure yet about putting Murphy flashbacks in here and should I decide not to do that then this chapter is the last one where he makes an appearance. *sniffs* I'm determined to get the old Connor back now, the one who bosses people around, plans shit and makes fun of people and killllllls some baddies. Or something like that. So all in all, Damni is his final recovery story and we've reached another turning point with this chapter. Why am I even explaining myself here? I dunno.


	44. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **setting:** episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

Connor spent the rest of his morning inside their cell simply because he needed some time for himself, and Daryl respected that. He spent some time outside with Merle, no matter how exhausting it really was to be with him. The older Dixon tried to ask his brother multiple times about what had happened this morning, to a point where he actually came up with all sorts of shit.  
  
It was obvious that he did not like Connor's and Daryl's friendship, which was why he kept mocking his sibling. The old Daryl back at the quarry would have exploded because of all these accusations and insults, the new Daryl, the member of Rick's group and Connor's best friend did not care about it any longer. He did not listen to it at all in fact.

But he was rather surprised by what he had witnessed outside, that his friend had really gone so far and actually burned the picture. He felt a bit guilty and bad about it, considering that it had been his idea to get rid of Murphy's stuff. Connor had been quiet and a sorrowful all morning, and no matter how hard the hunter tried, he couldn't stay away from his friend for too long. He wanted to talk about what he had seen, and he wanted Connor to know that he really respected him for what he had done. Which was the reason why he got up while Merle was still talking to him, and he ignored all of his brother's taunting and went back inside the cell block.

He greeted Carol and little ass-kicker on his way up the stairs, but other than that there were hardly any people inside. Rick and the others were outside, trying to get rid of some of the walkers, and Daryl wanted to join them with Connor, which was another reason why he was heading for their cell now. His friend was sitting on the cold cement floor and hovered over a large piece of old moldy paper, a pen in his right hand as he was drawing some sort of outline.  
  
Daryl leaned against the door to their cell and just watched his friend for a moment, and Connor looked up after a while. He nodded and Daryl nodded back, then the Irishman went back to his sketch again. Both men just enjoyed each other's company, then the older of the two spoke up.

"Ye know, I tried ta clean the tombs out when you were out there" he began and Daryl listened up.

He didn't like that Connor had gone off on his own again, especially to the parts of the prison that were not safe, but today he decided not to say anything or get into a fight because of it. His friend wouldn't look at him and kept talking anyway.

"I saw te hole in the wall. 's fucking massive. Even if we do manage ta fix it, it'll be pretty fucking easy t'destroy it and get in here if this Governor freak wants to break in to our prison. But then I crossed paths with all those filthy fucks..." he muttered and stopped writing and drawing for a moment. "And thought...we should use 'em. Let the tombs be crowded with walkers. So if someone decides ta make their way in here using the tombs they'd have to kill them, use some of their ammo, they'd be loud and we'd hear them. Same thing with the walkers outside. We could use them as shields. People would have ta get past those fucks first, fight them, use more ammo, and snipers couldn't shoot us because they couldn't even fucking see us."

Daryl folded his arms and nodded.

"Good thinking" he muttered and then nodded at the paper.

"And what's that about?"

The Irishman looked at it and scratched the back of his head.  
His blonde hair was especially messy today, and he looked a bit like a crazy professor. Minus the glasses.

"It's a map of the prison that is."

The hunter frowned.

"What for?"

Connor looked at him with a raised eyebrow and then shook his head.

"See, that's the reason. "

Daryl got even more confused and maybe even a bit angry.

"Mind talking English, yah freak?"

The blonde got up from the ground and cleaned his healthy hand on his jeans.   
He then grabbed a whiskey bottle from the small table, and just for a moment Daryl wondered where the fuck he had found that again.   
Connor took a large sip on the bottle and then wiped his mouth.

"Before all this shit you've been a hunter, aye?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Never killed anyone before? Always hunted and fought animals? Now walkers?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"Do I look like a fuckin psycho killer or some sorta crap? Of course I didn't kill anyone before this shit."

"Well see, and that's exactly te problem with ye people. Rick's a cop, so you should think that he's good at this. Well it looks like he ain't. The thing is, this is a fucking war here, Daryl. Just like ye said. We're not up against a herd of walkers, those are _people_. They got brains. They are smart. The Governor is smart. Some of them could be military. You saw Woodbury. 24 hour patrols. Cars. Heavy armory. A whole town and its infrastructure. And now look at us."

Daryl wouldn't stop frowning and looked at the map.

"Then why are yah mapping out the prison. Shouldn't yah try and come up with a map of Woodbury?"

Connor shook his head and took another sip on his whiskey bottle. He then knelt down to get the map so he could show it to his friend.

"Nah, see, this is exactly te point. If we wanna fight a war against people, then it's not primary about yer guns and how much bullets ye got or how scary ye look. It's about yer strategy. Ye need ta know yer way out, your sanctuaries. You need ta know yer home base like te back of yer own hand. Walkers do not care about structures. They got no brain. They get lost in this maze just like us and they will never get from A ta B because there's no mind operating them. With people it's different. They will look fer weak spots in our defences. Like te wall. They will look fer secret doors and unlocked windows. And if we wanna stay alive fer another couple of months, then we have ta think ahead and need ta locate and know about every breach in our system before them. Fuck those walkers outside, man. The shit Rick and the others are trying ta do is amateur shit."

The younger Dixon stared at his friend's scribblings and was actually really impressed by his work.

"Remember the Spartans? Numbers and warfare did not matter. Their strategy and good use of terrain made them win this fuckin thing.  
Hell, I could take out the whole of Woodbury on me own with the right material and plan."

He sat back down on the ground and started drawing again, and Daryl watched him and snorted after a moment.

"You sound like an old war veteran."

"'s cos I planned the murders of 22 people and broke out of a maximum security prison before this shit, remember?  
Besides, my Da and uncle taught me that."

Daryl wouldn't say anything to that and just watched his friend as he start scribbling on the paper.   
He noticed the tangling rosary, and when he saw that it was just the one he remembered again why he had come here in the first place.  
He shifted with a sigh and entered their cell.

"About this morning..."

Connor suddenly froze.

"Don't."

"But..."

"I said don't" Connor repeated and raised his head to look at his friend.   
  
Now he no longer looked sad, he looked angry and bitter.

It seemed to be the last state of his mourning, and Daryl could understand his friend. He wanted to talk about it because this wasn't just an important part of Connor's life but also of their relationship, but he supposed if his friend didn't want to talk about it then he would have to leave it be. He didn't get the chance to say anything else because then they could hear excited talking inside the dinning hall. Both men looked at each other with a confused frown. It was Connor who spoke first

"Is that Andrea?" he asked and Daryl walked outside their cell to have a look. He couldn't really see anyone, so he turned around again to look at Connor instead.

"Dunno. Let's find out."

* * *

As soon as they reached the hall they could see that they hadn't been wrong at all. Andrea had really returned and was now surrounded by the whole group, and it didn't take the two men long to understand that the woman was no longer welcome. Connor didn't really understand why, but he couldn't really care about it because he was well aware of the fact that Merle was inside the room as well, now caring one of their automatic rifles.   
  
_Why the fuck had they given this bastard a gun?_ _And most of all, why didn't Rick or Glenn care about that all of a sudden?_  
  
The Irishman tried to stay as far away from the older Dixon as possible, because he feared another violent outburst. He looked at Daryl, who didn't seem to care about him at the moment and who was busy sitting down on one of the tables opposite Andrea. The blonde woman eyed both friends head to toe and greeted them with a nod, but then decided to look at Rick and the others again.

"You all live here?" she asked and some nodded, but still looked rather angry.

Connor let his gaze wander and tried to understand why everyone was acting weird, because he was seriously glad to see that Andrea was still alive. _They had left her behind after the attack on the farm, hadn't they? So why was no one happy to see that she was alive?_ Glenn nodded and answered her question.

"Here in this cell block."

Andrea looked at him and pointed at the door which led back to their cells.

"There?" she wanted to know and the Korean just gave her another nod as an answer.

"Well, can I go in?"

Rick placed himself in her way, making it impossible for her to get through.

"I won't allow that."

Connor frowned and finally decided to say something as well.

"Why not?"

Daryl shifted next to him and sighed.

"I saw her back in Woodbury. She's part of them now."

Merle chuckled behind them, which made both Connor and Daryl turn their heads.

"Oh she's more than that."

The Irishman narrowed his eyes at the man and felt his hatred grow inside of him, but decided not to do or say anything just yet.  
He knew that Merle was just trying to get a rise out of everyone, and they had more important issues than an old and stupid redneck with a big mouth.

"I'm not an enemy, Rick" Andrea said, but their leader didn't seem to care about her answer.

"We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up."

"Boyfriend?!" Connor asked in surprise and looked at both Daryl and Andrea in confusion.

"Wait a fucking minute. What did I miss?"

"Blondie's the Governor's sweet little mistress now. Abandoned her girlfriend for an unpredictable psychopath" Merle spoke up and the Irishman looked at him for a second. He didn't want to listen to Daryl's brother because he wanted to pretend that he didn't exist, but when he turned his head to look at Andrea he could see that the older Dixon was actually right. Connor gave her an angry frown and snorted.

"Yer screwing around with this sick bastard and let 'im shoot at us although ye saw Daryl and the others? What te fuck woman?"

Andrea looked at him and pointed a finger at him to shut him up.

"Hey, watch your tone. I had no idea. I thought.."

She turned her head to look at Rick again.

"He said you fired first."

The whole group fell quiet and gave her disbelieving looks.

"Well, he's lying" Rick said and Herschel moved to speak up as well.

"He killed an inmate who survived here."

"We liked him. He was one of us" Daryl joined in and Connor folded his arms with a snort.

"And did Rick mention that his fucking truck was filled with walkers when he crashed te fence? Not ta speak about the snipers that went up our guard towers and keep watching us ever since this fucker and his crew drove off again. He's pulling the whole fucking war psychopath thing."

Andrea looked genuinely confused.

"I didn't know anything about that. As soon as I found out, I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot-out."

"You saw me that night" Daryl muttered.

"And that was days ago" Glenn added and Andrea looked at him.

"I told you, I came as soon as I could!"

"And ye had no idea about Glenn and Maggie before this? And me 'n Daryl? Yer telling me yer right at the source and didn't know shit about all his sick little plans? His kid? The heads? His little torture cellar?"

The blonde woman was speechless for a moment, then turned around to look at Michonne.

"What have you told them?"

Her friend just shrugged.

"Nothing."

Andrea shook her head and looked a bit panicked and upset.

"I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?"

"He almost killed Michonne and he would have killed us" Glenn stated and glared at her, but Andrea had enough.

She was obviously upset now and pointed at Merle.

"With his finger on the trigger. Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?"

No one had an answer to that, although Connor kind of agreed with her on that one. He turned his head to look at Daryl's brother again, who was still holding the rifle and had a smug smile on his face. The Irishman tried to stay calm, but knew that sooner or later he just had to talk Rick out of this. He didn't like the fact that Merle was allowed to carry a gun now. Didn't like it at all. He looked at Andrea again when he heard her sigh. The woman rubbed her eyes and shook her head tiredly.

"Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am here trying to bring us together. We have to work this out."

Rick just shook his head.

"There's nothing to work out. We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will."

Connor nodded since it was exactly the kind of thing he wanted to do.

"Aye. We will."

The blonde woman shook her head.

"We can settle this. There's room at Woodbury for all of you."

Merle chuckled.

"You know better than that."

"What makes you think this man wants to negotiate? Did he say that?" Herschel asked and Andrea shook her head.

"No."

Connor snorted.

"I think the snipers and fence thing made that pretty clear."

"Why did you come here?" Rick asked and Andrea stopped giving Merle and Connor angry looks.

"Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They're training to attack."

"They see _us_ as killers? What about yer death fights in the arena and how they were just waiting ta see Daryl get killed right in front of yer eyes? Who are the real terrifying people here?"

The hunter nodded and looked at Andrea.

"I'll tell you what. Next time you see Philip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye for that."

"We've taken too much shit for too long. He wants a war? He's got one" Glenn joined in and Andrea shook her head.

She wouldn't say anything to the three men, she just looked at Rick.

"Rick. If you don't sit down and try to work this out, I don't know what's gonna happen. He has a whole town."

"Don't worry about that. We don't need ta take out the whole town. We're gonna focus on yer boyfriend. A couple of bullet's all we need ta end this" Connor retorted and looked at Rick, who nodded after a moment.

"Why don't you just try make things _right_?" Andrea protested and looked at everyone.

"I mean look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore."

"You wanna make this right? Get us inside" Rick said and looked at Connor again.

"No" Andrea answered and shook her head. Rick shrugged.

"Then we got nothing to talk about" he said and left.

* * *

He found her outside the cell block, all by herself. He had passed Michonne on his way, so he supposed that the two women had been talking just a second ago. Andrea was just standing there in the middle of the yard, staring at the walkers who were still shaking the fences. She seemed completely lost in thoughts and Connor didn't exactly want to scare her, but he really needed to talk to her. He placed himself right next to the woman and stared at the walkers as well, trying to ignore the fact that he could still see and hear them talk. Andrea still startled when she noticed him.

"My god.." she muttered and rubbed her neck.

The Irishman chuckled.

"Call me Connor" he answered and looked at her.

"'s it all true?"

She massaged her shoulder and shrugged tiredly.

"Why, you come out here to lynch me as well?"

The Irishman didn't say anything to that and Andrea looked at him.

"I had no idea about this whole mess. Honestly. I thought Phillip...he was so different before all this."

"Do ye love 'im?"

The blonde woman sighed and looked away.

"I don't know."

Silence.

"I don't know anything anymore."

Connor just watched the walkers for a bit and got lost in thoughts, his mind hung up on everything he heard them say, everything he heard them beg for. Part of him wished for Murphy to be standing there with them, but of course. His twin was gone. He looked in the direction where he had burned the picture, and once again he felt the incredible pain in his chest.

"Why did you come out here?" Andrea asked and snapped him out of it.

The Irishman cleared his throat and looked at her again.

"Because I need ta talk to you. I need your help and some information."

"Like what?"

"Get me back inside Woodbury."

Andrea snorted.

"Right now it looks like they're just gonna shoot you as soon as they see you."

"Not if ye get me inside without anyone seeing us."

"And why would I do that?"

"I come up with a decent plan, you get me inside, I kill him with a clean headshot and this whole bloody thing is over. Ye know I got experience with that. I managed ta run away from te police fer almost ten years without anyone catching me and I took down a whole bunch of twisted bastards like 'im. Rick ain't got the guts fer that, neither has he got the experience and intelligence fer that. Same with Glenn. He may be agile, but he's too emotional. I'm the only one who can end this shit without messing this whole thing up fer both sides. But I need yer help fer that."

Andrea widened her eyes and stared at him in pure horror and disgust.

"No way! There are children in there, old people, _friends_. And I won't assist any kind of murder! It's not to late to talk about it and figure it out the diplomatic way."

"Yer already assisting crimes that are way worse than fucking murder, woman!" Connor growled and grabbed her by her shoulder.

"Open yer eyes. This whole mess is a whole lotta worse than one single justified murder like the one I plan ta do. If those two go on like this, and I mean _both_ yer boyfriend and Rick, then we're all screwed. If ye don't help me here yer precious innocent people WILL get killed, do ye understand? All those kids and old people and women yer talking about, do ye think I want ta see them get killed in a fucking unneccessary war?! We're pretty much the only two people who can end this. I can't do this alone because I don't know my way around town."

Andrea shook her head.

"No. There's got to be another way. Otherwise we're no better than them. Remember what Dale said? If we do this, the world that we knew is dead. If we do this, we're saying there's no hope, that rule of law is dead. That civilization ceased to exist. You and I were the only two people that agreed with him there. We three were on the same page. And now I found Woodbury, and I am determined to keep that thought up, to rebuilt a small society, to honor Dale and our humanity. I don't want _anyone_ to die. I know that Phillip has made some mistakes. He lost his daughter and control over town because of this mess, but you don't know him the way I know him, you don't see him the.."

"That's because yer fucking blinded!" Connor interrupted her and let go of her with a growl.

"The problem is that you don't get people like him. I do. You've been watching too much television, and the whole fucking part doesn't exactly make you any less biased. The bad guys, they're hardly ever ugly, ye can hardly ever see that they're evil. They're always the charmer, they know how ta schmooze people, how ta get the women and important people. They know how ta maintain their image on the outside. This is how they rule the world. It's all charm and biscuits until they got enough followers on their hands and then they show their true face. And guess what, that's exactly what happened."

"I was a lawyer, don't think I don't know how criminals work" Andrea countered and Connor snorted angrily.

"Exactly! Here ye go! Lawyers and judges and their fucking inability ta see the real evil because of their corruption was the reason why me and my brother had ta go out there and sort shit out in the first place! People like you fail ta protect innocent lives because yer corrupted by all sortsa shit, like yer corrupted by yer own lust. But yer right, there's still time ta set it right. Get me inside. Get me to him. 's all I'm asking fer."

"And I told you. The answer is no."

Connor moved his healthy hand through his hair and sighed.

"Jesus fuckin Christ..." he muttered and shook his head.

"Just...just give it a thought. Think it through when yer on yer own. Do it fer us, fer everyone you love in Woodbury, do it fer all the innocent, aye? I'm trying ta do it the reasonable and easy way. Don't think that the fact that ye disagree will change a fucking thing. It will make everything worse in fact. Because I'm sure Rick and the others will make it a bigger mess than me."

Andrea just looked at him and kept shaking her head, and the Irishman needed a moment to calm down. He searched his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter and then lit a smoke with a sigh. The woman next to him was about to leave because she was obviously upset and annoyed because of all the discussions and fights, but Connor asked her to wait.

"Just one more thing. I gotta ask ye something."

Andrea let out a tired sigh and stopped walking.

"What?"

"Back in Woodbury, they captured me and Daryl. There was a man. Glasses, looked kinda nerdy. Name's Miller or something?"

The blonde woman frowned and walked back to him.

"Milton? Milton Mamet?"

Connor nodded and blew out some smoke.

"Aye. That's the one."

"What about him?"

"Is he a doctor there or something like that?"

Andrea put a hand on her hip and cocked her head.

"Not really. He's more like the Governor's right hand in planning. And he does some research on the walkers. Why?"

"Research, huh" Connor muttered and chuckled without finding it funny.

There was silence for a while and Andrea waited for an explanation.  
Connor tried to talk about it, but it still send a shiver down his spine.  
He still felt disgusted and angry because of it.

"How did yer get away from the farm?"

Andrea sighed.

"Running. Lots of running. I made my way through the woods...and I was as good as dead but then Michonne found me and saved my life."

She looked back at the prison, as if trying to see her friend.  
She was obviously upset because of the way Michonne had treated her inside and outside the prison.

"It's been a hard winter for me."

"Me, too" Connor muttered and took another drag on his cigarette.

Then he finally had the guts to talk about it.

"I got bit back at te farm."

Andrea widened her eyes in surprise.

"What? How? How is that..."

"I was looking fer Carl, Beth and Patricia when a walker got me and bit my arm" Connor muttered and showed her the scars on his left lower arm.

Andrea looked down on the Irishman with wide eyes, then she looked in his eyes again.

"May I?" she asked and pointed at the arm.

Connor nodded.

"Knock yerself out" he answered and Andrea moved her fingers over the faint and healed bite wound.

It still made the blonde MacManus feel uncomfortable, but he let her do it because he'd always feel a connection with Andrea. Because they were similar. They had both lost their siblings to a walker, they had both considered suicide, and they had both tried to fight for justice back in the old days. The fact that she was now dating and sleeping with the psychopath that was now threatening their group made her a bit less sympathetic, but he still let her touch it.

"How is that possible?" Andrea asked and Connor moved his arm away and tried to relax.

"No one really knows, but it looks like I'm immune to this whole shit" he muttered and pointed at the walkers.

The woman turned her head to look at them as well and the Irishman sighed.

"I nearly died the first time, but I recovered from it after a couple of painful weeks. Daryl pretty much saved me life there. He was about ta pull the trigger, but somehow he saw that I was still alive. The group took off and he took care of me, and when I was okay again we went after them."

Andrea frowned.

"The first time?"

Connor gave her a crooked smile.

"Aye. 's what I need ta know. When I went back fer Daryl in Woodbury they captured me. They were about ta kill me but Daryl told them about te whole immunity thing. And yer boyfriend had the lovely idea ta tie me to a chair and let a walker bite me" he told her and grabbed the collar of his shirt to move it down and let her see the bandage and stitches on his shoulder. Andrea covered her mouth in shock and gasped.

"Oh my god. I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, won't change a thing now. Add another reason to t'list why dear Phillip needs ta fucking die" the Irishman growled and sorted his clothes.

"But that's not the main issue right now. This Milton guy did some tests on me in his lab. He took blood samples. I managed ta destroy a couple of phials, but I'm not sure if I got them all. Has he been working on anything suspicious lately?"

Andrea nodded after a moment of chewing on her lips and being lost in thoughts.

"Now that you mention it..."

Connor moved his hand through his hair again and started walking around.

"Fuck" he muttered and looked at Andrea.

"He can't have that stuff. It needs ta be destroyed."

"Well..maybe he can find a cure? This is a _good_ thing, Connor" the woman tried to reason with the Irishman but he just shook his head.

"No, ye don't understand. As much as I want a fucking cure, not him. Not Woodbury."

"Milton is not a bad person. He helped me get here. He is kind, intelligent, a bit of a coward maybe, but he's never killed a.."

"He fucking strapped me to a bed, put needles in me and took my blood without permission. He treated me like a fucking lab monkey in there."

"And I'm pretty sure he treated your bite wound and you're the reason his nose is broken."

Connor snorted.

"Well that fucker deserved it."

Andrea sighed.

"Look. I get what you want and where you come from, but the answer is no. To everything. I won't let you kill Phillip, and I won't destroy what could be our only hope for an actual solution and cure for this disease."

"Just..."

"Connor!"

Both the Irishman and Andrea turned their heads to see who had spoken.  
Daryl was standing by the door which led back inside the cell block, seemingly irritated by the fact that the two of them were all alone out there.

"Aye?" the remaining MacManus twin answered and Daryl nodded at the door.

"Get your ass in here. Rick wants to talk."

The Irishman looked at Andrea and sighed.

"Looks like my girlfriend needs me. I'm coming" he told Daryl and threw his cigarette away.

"We're not through this yet" he then told Andrea and gave her a warning glare, only to make his way back inside the cell block.


	45. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

As soon as they got back inside the cell block it became pretty obvious that Rick didn't really want to talk to Connor. Because their leader was nowhere in sight. The Irishman stopped walking and looked at his friend who had taken a seat next to his brother. Connor searched the hall for the former policeman but when he couldn't see him anywhere he got even more confused.

"So, where's he then?" he asked and Daryl shrugged.

"Nowhere. Just wanted to get your ass away from her."

Connor frowned even more.

"What?"

"Rick wants yah to keep your trap shut in front of her. She's not with us anymore. Ain't no reason to tell her nothing."

The Irishman snorted and folded his arms.

"Seriously? I was just trying ta get her to get me back in there. Kill the Governor, do something about this whole war thing. Unlike the rest of ye people who just seem ta be sitting on their asses in here and do absolutely nothing about it" he retorted and looked at the Dixon brothers and Carol and Beth, who were busy cooking in the corner.

Merle chuckled.

"Forget it, Blondie. You'd be eating bullets way before you even get close to Woodbury."

"Oh you just watch me" Connor answered and gave the older Dixon an angry glare, which made the latter grin.

"Watch you die? Counting on it, Paddy."

Although the sheer presence of Merle Dixon made his blood boil Connor still decided to just ignore Daryl's brother, as if he didn't exist.  
He looked at the younger Dixon instead, who was trying to sharpen his knife.

"I wanna keep going with te map of the prison. Make out some more emergency exits in the west wing. I could use some help with that, you in?" he asked his friend who looked at him. Daryl was just about to answer him, but once again Merle interrupted their talk and Connor had to fight the urge to punch him really hard.

"Seriously, where did you get this one, Darylena? The fag factory? Now she wants to draw pictures with you, what the hell?"

Connor gave the older Dixon yet another death glare but decided to not say anything or do anything about that just yet. Not with Daryl around.  
He was waiting for an answer and it was obvious that his friend was just as annoyed by his brother.

"Sure. In a minute" the hunter said and nodded.

"What? Hey, you ain't leaving, you just got your worthless ass back here with me" Merle protested.

Connor nodded back at Daryl and then looked at the older Dixon, who seemed to be seriously pissed because of his brother's answer. It amused the heck out of the Irishman, because he was proud of Daryl and how much he had grown, and also because it was obvious that he was his favorite.   
  
He had almost expected some sort of struggle or bitchy attitude from his friend now that Merle was around, but Daryl seriously did not seem to care any longer. Connor still hated his friend's brother more than anything after the attack yesterday and the thing with the picture today, so he just needed to do one more thing to piss the redneck off even more. He gave the man an evil smirk and then put a hand on Daryl's shoulder. _  
_

"Alright, _brother_. Maybe after that we can work on yer tat. Anyway, 'm gonna go ahead. See ye in a minute, honeybunch" he said and grabbed Daryl by the back of his head to yank it back.

He then placed his bandaged hand on his friend's mouth and kissed the back of his hand. He got the exact reaction he had aimed for. Daryl started struggling and fighting and protesting, and as soon as he let go of his mouth the younger Dixon started yelling at him, just like his brother. Except that Merle was even more furious, which was exactly what he had wanted to achieve.

He remembered the threat.

 _He's_ my _baby brother. Don't think I didn't see what you scratched on his back. If I ever see yah near him again, if you ever touch him or call him brother or if yah ever try to turn him into such a pansy-assed, bible-banging potato-stuffed pussy like your dead brother, then I will cut you open and make sure you die _real_ slow._

And this was his way of telling Merle a big old "fuck you". The older Dixon had already managed to get off his chair and was yelling all sorts of insults and death threats at Connor for doing something so _unmanly_ to his baby brother, and just when he was about to attack him Rick and Glenn decided to enter, making a fight between the Irishman and redneck impossible. The two men looked at the other three for a moment, then Rick's eyes lingered on Connor.

"We could use your help" he stated and the Irishman sat down on the table.

He couldn't fight the pleased smile that broke through because once again he had managed to piss both Dixon brothers off.

"Aye, sure. With what?"

Rick put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"We're sending Andrea on her way back to Woodbury. She needs a car. From the parking lot."

Connor nodded and wanted to answer, but this time it was Daryl who spoke up.

"Why don't you let her get it herself?"

The Irishman turned his head to look at his friend, still grinning to himself.

"There's lots of walkers wandering around there. I was gonna go first, but..we think you could handle it way faster than us.." Glenn said to the blonde who turned his head and nodded.

"Aye. Yer right" Connor answered and looked at Daryl again, who was pressing his lips together and glared at both him and Rick.

It was obvious that he didn't like the idea at all, but every once in a while he would also look at his brother. The hunter might have changed, but it was still obvious that he was under his sibling's spell. It looked like he was torn, like he wanted to tell them his opinion on that but at the same time didn't want to let Merle know and hear it. Connor got up from the table and sorted his clothes.

"Alright, but I gotta talk ta you first, Rick."

"Yeah, me, too. Actually" Daryl grunted and got up as well.

* * *

They were heading for the door that led to the administration offices to get some car keys and a better view on the parking lot, which was located behind a thick steel door that separated their prison yard from the rest of the prison complex. Daryl still didn't like the idea at all, and he would no longer keep it in, now that Merle was nowhere in sight.

"Why's _he_ gotta go get it, let me'n Merle handle it then. His chance t'prove himself."

Connor rolled his eyes and looked at his friend.

"Oh don't get started on this shit again. I'm the man fer that and everyone knows that."

"We sending injured to do our dirty work now? Why don't we just give her one of our cars?" Daryl said to Rick and ignored his friend completely.

"Because we need them, Daryl. "

"Hey, who are ye calling injured? 'm fine" Connor muttered and Daryl stopped walking.

"How about this?" he countered and buried his index finger in his friend's injured shoulder, which made the Irishman wince.

"Or this?" The hunter then grabbed Connor's left hand and squeezed hard.

"Ow! Are ye fucking mental?" the older of the two friends protested and massaged his shoulder and then hand with an angry look on his face.

"No, but it looks like you are. _I'm_ going in, get your stupid car" the hunter growled and headed for the door.

"Daryl! Fer fuck's sakes, wait!" the Irishman yelled after him but Daryl ignored him and entered the building without the other two.

"Jesus..." Connor muttered and then looked at Rick.

"'m gonna go after him. Don't worry about yer car."

The policeman nodded and started walking, but Connor asked him to stop.

"I gotta talk ta you fer a sec. About the Governor and Woodbury."

Rick put his hands on his hips again and sighed. It was obvious that he didn't really like talking about it, but the Irishman still needed to get it off his chest.

"I'm trying ta talk Andrea into taking me with'er."

Their leader frowned.

"What?"

Connor nodded.

"Aye. Just like ye suggested. Just like _I_ suggested this morning. Before the thing with Andrea. Find a way in and then kill him.  
I'm gonna do it. I think we should talk about it and seriously consider.."

Rick just shook his head.

"No."

The Irishman frowned.

"Why not? Ye just asked her ta get us in there so we could kill him. And we both know that I got a little history there."

"I know, but that's not the way we handle things, Connor. We don't just go in and start shooting at people. It won't work.   
Let me think it through first. Let's not jump the gun on it. We're gonna make this work by working together."

"You know we don't stand a chance against Woodbury like that. They outnumber us big time. And it's not gonna do us any good if we wait any longer and risk any more lives by going in there together. I'm..look, I'm just trying ta be the voice of reason here, Rick. Just hear me out and listen ta me. Trust me, I wouldn't screw it up. I'm good at this."

The policeman nodded.

"I know. I know. But the answer is no. Besides, Daryl is right. Look at you. You hardly made it back here last time."

The Irishman tried to stay calm although it was getting on his nerves how people kept mention the fact that he had been captured and bit in Woodbury.

"Aye. And they won't kill me because they know about me. They'd be stupid ta kill their only hope fer a cure."

Rick snorted.

"You think so? Just an hour ago you saw right through him. You and I both know what kind of person we're talking about here. He won't hesitate.  
Even with you in the line of fire. I think you're better off in here. We need you in here, in fact."

Connor pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. He still wouldn't let go, although he agreed with Rick there. He knew that the Governor would probably kill him as soon as he saw him, but the Irishman literally didn't care. He just knew that he was going to take that dirty bastard down with him, even if this meant that they both would not make it out of there alive. This was the kind of death he had always pictured after all. Going down in a hail of bullets, taking the most devilish and evil bastard with him.

"I got a plan. I can make this work. Ye know I can. Remember the warehouse two weeks ago? _I'm_ the one who got us outta there, I got it to work."

The man opposite him nodded.

"Yes. I do remember your plans. And that's exactly the reason why I need you _here_. Daryl told me about your new plan.  
The prison, the maps, the thing with the wall that's down. That's some good thinking. I want you to keep track of things and coordinate people while I'm gone."

The Irishman frowned.

"While yer gone?"

Rick nodded once more.

"I'm going on a run. We need more guns. Material. Anything we can gather."

"You don't want me ta come with you?"

The other man shook his head.

"No. I need you and Daryl in here. Keep an eye on Merle. And I need a couple of good shots walking the perimeter while me and Carl are gone."

The Irishman widened his eyes in surprise.

"Yer gonna take te kid?"

"I will. And Michonne."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about this?"

Rick nodded.

"I am. I can't take Maggie, Glenn or you. You are injured. You need to rest. It's too dangerous out there. Carl is ready. And it's a good opportunity to test Michonne's loyalty. I don't trust Merle. Daryl is the only one having an influence on him. So yeah. I'm sure. First thing in the morning, me, Carl and Michonne are gonna make our way back to King County."

* * *

It wasn't hard to find Daryl in the small administration building. A bloody trail of dead walkers led straight up the stairs, and part of Connor was freaked out because there were more walkers in here than he had expected. It wasn't like he thought that Daryl couldn't take care of himself. Of course he could. His friend was practically a killing machine with his crossbow and knife. But it still freaked the Irishman out, because no matter how much better he was getting ever since he had lost Murphy, he still saw himself as the big brother, and it was his _job_ to worry.

Connor made his way up the stairs and through a couple of filthy rooms, and once again there they were. Dead bodies. In every single room. He found Daryl in a larger office, where one of the walls was covered with all sorts of keys. There was the dead body of a man in a police uniform sitting on a chair in front of a computer, but the bloody wound on his forehead told the Irishman that he didn't really need to worry about him. He was more worried about his friend, who was grabbing all sorts of keys and made his way to the large barred window which was facing the parking lot.

The area downstairs was practically surrounded by walls on three sides, one of them being the one with the massive steel door that led back to their prison yard. He could see another fence opposite that one, but it was partly destroyed, looking like a car had run it over. Several walkers were roaming through the parking lot, between the cars, wearing both prison uniforms and normal clothes. Other walkers were walking up and down the road that led away from the prison, making their way away from the part of the complex that had obviously burned out and down a long time ago. Funny how just a bit of steel and bricks could keep a mess like that out. There was a LOT they needed to get to know about the prison and its layout.

"Having fun running off on yer own?" Connor muttered as he watched his friend walk up and down the room to check several of the remote control car keys.

Daryl looked at him for a moment and then got back to work.

"Having fun being used as bait and Rick's errand boy?" he asked instead of answering and Connor chuckled.

"You can talk. Yer just jealous cos he ain't asking you anymore now that the asshole you call yer brother's with us. Or is it about te fact that I'm sapposed to get rid of all the walkers again? Ain't she adorable when she starts babysitting me."

"Shut up" Daryl growled.

The blonde wouldn't say anything to that and just looked at the hunter with an amused smirk, and Daryl stared back at him for a while.

"I thought we made a deal back at the fire station. And you keep breaking it. Ever since we got here."

Connor stared back at him for a while and then headed for the keys to help his friend find a working car.

"Well, maybe it's time we fucked the deal. Let's be honest here. We should finally use the whole immunity thing against the walkers instead of not doing it just cos yer afraid of something that might never..."

"Well but it did happen!" Daryl interrupted him and pointed at his friends shoulder.

"Look at you! You got bit, you got probed, you killed someone, you see shit. Just cos you broke your promise and ran in there, just like you always run at every walker and every enemy you can find these days."

Connor snorted and gave his friend an angry frown.

"What te fuck are ye on about? They just asked me ta get one fucking car! Look, there ain't even that many walkers out there.  
Don't think I can't estimate how things are gonna turn out when I do something. I'm not stupid."

"Yeah of course, if yah weren't stupid then you wouldn't do that shit with Merle all the time, man. Seriously.  
You need t'stop getting on his nerves all the time" Daryl growled and started searching for the keys again.

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"Fer real? Jesus, it's not really about te car, it's about me pretending ta kiss you in front of yer brother, isn't it? Calm yer beans, will ye. I was trying ta get a rise outta _him_ , not you. It doesn't mean anything, you retard. Now stop being a pansy about it and get me a working key."

Daryl gritted his teeth and shook his head with an annoyed growl.

"Nah, fuck you" he muttered and kept searching.

It was quiet for a while, and Daryl was obviously brooding again. It took them a while to search the office, and after a moment the younger of the two couldn't stop thinking about this morning again. He still had not been able to talk about it with Connor, so maybe now was a better time than back at the cell before Andrea had arrived.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked and his friend listened up.

"What?"

"Why'd you burn the picture?"

Connor froze and just stared at the desk for a while, and Daryl turned around to look at his friend and waited for an answer.  
The Irishman started working again and shrugged.

"Cos you told me ta do it" he muttered and his voice was lacking strength all of a sudden. Daryl leaned against the table and folded his arms.

"Well last time I asked yah to bury it you didn't do it. So what's changed?"

Connor let go of the stuff he had been searching and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. It took him a while to answer, but he eventually did it.

"Back when we got here...yesterday. When when got here, yesterday, I saw him by the fence. With the other walkers. He told me.."

He took a deep shaky breath and looked out of the window.

"He told me that I should stop fighting something. That some people are waiting. I didn't get it at first, but after that thing with the picture and yer brother.. You told me that I need ta stop it. And that you people need me. And then I finally got what Murphy wanted ta tell me. He asked me ta let him go and give him some peace...I guess ye were both right and I finally had the guts ta do it."

Daryl just looked at his friend and nodded. Connor kept looking out of the window and nodded as well.

"'t fucking hurts. Believe me, it fucking hurts. But you were right about it. Feels like this weight got lifted off my chest. And I really get it now.  
You people need me fer this Woodbury shit. Especially now that our faithful leader is running off all te time."

The hunter frowned.

"Rick ain't going nowhere" he muttered and Connor snorted.

"Aye, must've imagined the talk I just had with him a couple of minutes ago then, where he told me he's gonna go back ta King County to get guns with his 12 year old and a woman he doesn't even know" the blonde muttered and got up to test another bunch of keys.

Daryl shook his head with a snort and did the same.

"Yeah, maybe this is you imagining shit again."

"Oh fuck you" Connor he said and grabbed one key, and this time one of the old and dusty police cars downstairs responded with flickering lights.

Both men looked out of the window and the Irishman grinned.

"Jackpot" he said and Daryl smirked.

"You want a medal, jackass?" he muttered and got up from the desk he had been sitting on, and just when he was about to head for the door the Irishman called after him.

"Daryl. Wait."

The hunter turned around and just looked at his friend, waiting for him to go on.

"We're a team, right?"

Daryl frowned.

"You really gotta ask?"

The blonde nodded and waited for an answer until it finally came.

"Of course, dumbass. Why?"

Connor sighed and leaned against the window.

"I got a plan. On the whole Woodbury thing."

It was obvious that the hunter didn't like talking about it just as much as Rick had not wanted to talk about it, but he still kept listening.

"You mean your map thing?"

The Irishman shook his head.

"No, not that one. An other one. The one I was talking about with Rick just a second ago. I want ta get back inside Woodbury and shoot the Governor dead. He's against it. So was Andrea when I talked to her. They think it's bullshit. I don't. I wanna do this. With you. And yer brother."

Daryl frowned and folded his arms.

"You? And Merle? You serious?"

Connor nodded and crossed his legs as he stared out of the window for a bit.

"Aye. Shocking, isn't it."

"What exactly do yah wanna do?" the younger of the two asked and stepped closer. Connor looked at him and and folded his arms as well.

"You know that me and yer brother don't exactly get along that well, but even I gotta admit he's a decent fighter and quite the strategist himself. He serves his purpose, that's fer sure. And he knows that town and that guy better than anyone, doesn't he? He's been with them fer months. He'd be our map, you'd be my watchdog. With ye around he can't pull any bullshit on me, we three make our way in there, kill the Governor, his right hand men, make Andrea take over te city and we all live happily ever after. It sounds simple, it is simple. Trust me, brother. Ye know my history better than anyone."

Daryl chewed on his lower lip for a while and they just looked each other in the eye.

"Last time we got in there it didn't end so well for us, did it?"

Connor snorted.

"It worked out just te way we wanted it ta work. You got stuck in there cos you wanted ta see yer brother, I got stuck in there ta get back ta you. I would've gotten outta there without a scratch if I'd just wanted to, and you would've been just as fine if you wanted to as well. But we both _decided_ ta get screwed up in there, didn't we?"

Daryl looked at his friend a bit longer, then he rubbed his forehead with a tired sigh.

"I don't know, man."

"All ye gotta do is follow me and trust me. 's not te first time I'm doing this. I'm good at this. Really. You know I am. It's been my job.  
God himself gave me te mission ta rid the world of evil. And he's been watching over me ever since I got it."

Daryl rolled his eyes when he heard about Connor's whole god business again, but he kept his mouth shut, now that it was obvious that it really mattered to his friend. Connor swallowed and looked out of the window for a while. He grabbed his rosary and held on to it for a while until he finally spoke again.

"Murph always trusted me. And I got him through that fer almost ten years. I just screwed it up _once_. I learnt my lesson that day.  
It won't happen again. I promise ye we're gonna be just fine."

"Give me some time to think about it" Daryl said after a while and Connor looked at him.   
  
It wasn't the answer he wanted, but at least it wasn't a no, like all the nos he had heard from the other people he had told about his idea to resolve this whole mess.

"Okay."

"Right" Daryl muttered and they kept looking at each other.

"Right" Connor repeated after him and it was quiet for a little while longer. Then the blonde smirked.

"Is this te part were ye run at me, throw yer arms around me and we make out?"

"Shut up" Daryl said with a snort and then chuckled, which made Connor laugh as well.

"Ye shoulda seen yer fucking face. Priceless" he giggled and made his way to the door, but not without receiving a decent (and painful) kick in his ass first.

"Fucking asshole" the hunter growled behind him and followed his friend outside the office.

* * *

The way downstairs was just as messy as the way up to the offices. There were walkers waiting for them, and there wasn't enough daylight coming through the windows which made the whole killing part even harder for them. Connor and Daryl stayed close to each other, and although the older of the two had insisted on going first the hunter had still won the argument and was now walking down the stairs in front of the Irishman. Connor was pissed because of that, especially because Daryl wouldn't stop mocking him the entire way down, calling him a sissy and cripple who wouldn't be able to kill the walkers anyway.

Part of the blonde considered shoving his friend down the stairs and towards the undead, but of course, that would be a bad thing to do and he didn't really want him to die. Maybe. But part of him was actually glad he didn't have to be the first to watch out for them just yet, simply because he was way too distracted by all the whispers around him, that he was still hearing the undead talk to him, begging him, reaching out for him.   
  
It was still so incredibly weird for the Irishman. It was like he was watching two films at once, one where his friend was murdering innocent people in front of him as they kept begging and begging while he just watched. Then there was the actual second film, the real one, the one where growling monsters were coming at them, ready to eat them, kill them, tear them apart.

There were maybe six walkers in the stairwell, and Connor found it particularly ridiculous how these things had been living right next door for a couple of weeks without them taking care of them. It was about time they got started on his other plan in the meantime, and that was taking full use of the prison, making it a deadly maze for intruders and a safe home for them. When they reached the door that led to the parking lot Daryl seemed to notice the look on his friend's face, because he stopped walking and looked at him for a moment.

"You alright?" he asked when he saw the way Connor was staring at the door, because now the Irishman could hear all the walkers outside.

Part of him imagined them coming closer and closer to the door, closing in on them, banging on the door, begging to be freed.

_Why don't you listen to us? Help us. Let us out. Free us. We're so hungry._

The snapping of fingers in front of his eyes snapped him out of it.

"Earth to leprechaun."

Connor shook his head and blinked a couple of times, then grabbed his knife and nodded.

"Let's get out there and get te car. I got the keys."

Daryl stared at him with a worried look on his face.  
He didn't want to say anything at first, but then his protective side eventually kicked in.

"You sure?"

Connor rolled his eyes.

"Yes I am, Ma. Now open te fucking door. We ain't got all day. Group's waiting."

Daryl snorted and shook his head angrily.

"Fine, whatever" he muttered and turned around to grab the handle to open the door.


	46. Echoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 11 " _I Ain't A Judas_ "

It got worse when Daryl opened the door. Just like last time when he had come across a larger herd of walkers Connor had trouble concentrating on anything, because once again all the undead around him wouldn't shut up. It was like in a horror film. It took a lot to scare the Irishman, but this was more than enough to freak him out. It wasn't like they were screaming at him, and their mouths were not really moving, he knew that. But there was something incredibly weird going on, because he _could_ hear their voices, no matter if it was just in his head or about something more.

It didn't just scare him, it also annoyed the crap out of Connor. Because he couldn't concentrate. It was distracting, and he prayed to god that it was just a side effect of the recent infection. He had been bit two days ago, and he was still in pain, still felt dizzy and sick most of the time, so he blamed it on that. There was no way he was gonna listen to that whispering crap forever. Daryl snapped him out of it again when he called his name and grabbed him by his shoulder.

"Hey, that ain't funny anymore" he said and Connor shook his head and massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment.

He tried to concentrate on the here and now, the feeling of Daryl's hand on his shoulder, his breathing, the rhythmic pounding in his bite wound. He tried to just blend anything else out.

"It's alright" he muttered and then massaged his wounded shoulder, but it was obvious that Daryl didn't buy it.

"You gotta concentrate, man" he murmured and Connor shook him off with an annoyed growl.

"I fuckin am, alright? Let's just get te car. It's that one over there" the blonde answered and pointed at a silver vehicle on the other side of the parking lot.

He started walking and grabbed the knife which Daryl had given him, and he kept ignoring all the voices he could hear in his head. One good thing about the whispering was that he could actually make out the presence of the walkers, and that partly even before he saw them. Both men made their way through the center of the parking lot. There were about 30 cars that were still parked there, and at least half of them were police cars.

They could see several walkers staggering around the area, some were closer, some were far away, some were staggering between the cars and a few were kneeling between two because they were eating what looked like a cat. Daryl aimed his crossbow at some of them because they tried to clean out the parking lot as they made their way to the car they wanted. The hunter had just shot the two walkers by the carcass when he decided that it was safe enough to talk.

"So about your plan" he muttered as he got his arrows back.

"How the hell do you wanna get inside their camp and inside that sick fuck's apartment?"

Connor, who was killing walkers on the other side, turned around to look at his friend with a frown.

"Well, we sneak in. Just like last time. Same way, same house, and straight up te stairs or through a back door or something."

Daryl approached another row of cars to check for walkers.

"Yeah, except that they gotta have about twice as many guards since last time. They're expecting visitors now."

"Where there's a will there's a way. Don't underestimate my creativity" Connor countered and Daryl snorted.

They killed another two walkers and then the older of the two turned around to look at his friend.

"First time we killed some people we used a fuckin toilet."

The other man frowned.

"A toilet."

Connor chuckled and nodded.

"Aye. A fucking toilet."

"And whose idea was that? Let me guess. Yours."

The Irishman shrugged.

"Well I had no choice. Fuckers cuffed me to it, I ripped it outta the ground, thought I might as well use it ta bash their brains in, aye."

Daryl snorted and shook his head.

"You're fucking nuts."

"Aye. After that we got inta one location using the air shafts, and then one time we got ta another location with a forklift. And another time we jumped off a cleaning platform of the Prudential tower and crashed right through the windows. So trust me, getting in there will be the least of our problems."

The hunter looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"You're entering dangerous places with forklifts, toilets and cleaning platforms. Yeah, no reason to worry about safety. Not at all."

Connor frowned and walked past a car to get back to the center of the parking lot.

"Oh come on, where's your fucking sense of adventure?"

Daryl approached his friend so they could walk down the rest of the parking lot together.

"There ain't no adventure these days. It's serious shit, kill or be killed."

"It's always been kill or be killed fer me. And I'm still alive, ain't I?"

The younger Dixon snorted.

"Yeah, hardly."

"Oh fuck you, I think it's a good..."

"Shh!" Daryl suddenly hushed him and ducked down. He grabbed Connor by his shirt to pull him down with him. The Irishman didn't get what was wrong at first, but after being still and listening up for a while he could actually hear what was going on. The rattling of chains, the endless moaning about, and it didn't take long and he was zoning out again. He could hear the sound of voices calling out and begging, and he knew what it was about. Another whole bunch of walkers was near, maybe even right around the corner.

"Sounds like a shitload" Connor muttered as they snuck their way behind a car.

"Want me ta have a look?" he went on and Daryl shook his head. They had a look across the roof the car to see how far the one was for which they had the key.

Only three other cars separated them from their destination, which wasn't too far, but it were the all the noises that made them hesitate. They remained there for about a minute just to try to make out how many walkers there where and where they were, and it didn't take long and the Irishman zoned out completely. He rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, not only because of the pain in his shoulder but also because of the talking.  
  
It sounded like they were all begging for something, but not the same thing. He believed to hear some of them begging for something to eat, others were begging for something to drink. then there were the ones who were screaming and shouting, who wanted to be let in or who needed help. All the voices were driving him nuts, and he shook his head with an angry growl, because just for a second all the screaming and begging was actually reminding him of something else.

* * *

_**10 months ago...** _

And yet another camp he could cross off the list. Only that this time the refuge camp was way larger than the last couple of places he had visited. Fort Benning. Overrun. He did not even dare entering the grounds, because he could hear them across the wall. The screams, the shooting, the begging. And he could also see them. Countless undead who were staggering around the walls and through the crushed gates. He could see them walking past the countless cars all around the location, so he figured that he certainly had not been the only one to come here before the place had fallen.

He just happened to be late, which, in his case, was a pretty positive thing. Well, _he_ didn't think it was a good thing, considering he still hated to be here on this stinking rotten world in the first place. But it was true that if he had come here earlier when all those people had still been alive he would've been overwhelmed just as much. Another bunch of survivors, attacked and who were probably eaten alive right now. He honestly wanted to help them, but there were too many undead all around the place, and going in there would be suicide. It wasn't like he didn't want to die, but he had promised Murphy to stay alive, so there was no going in there. Fort Benning had fallen.

It had been two weeks since he had last come across living people.  
He honestly didn't know how much longer he could take it.

The good part about the whole thing was that he could hardly feel anything these days anyway. Sometimes it was like he was a robot. Eating. Sleeping. Killing. Moving. The same schedule everyday. He did not speak and hardly ever moved a muscle in his face, and he was pretty sure that should he ever meet people again they could actually mistake him for a walker. Because he felt dead inside.

It had been 56 days since Murphy had died.

Once again he had to fight really hard not to start bawling again. It wasn't like he didn't do that at all. He did it every day in fact. During the nights, which were still the worst part about the whole apocalypse thing. He hardly ever slept these days, because the nightmares tortured him every single night, every single time he just closed his eyes. He could still hear his brother's screams, still hear how he had been yelling his name over and over again. And when he looked down on himself he could still see the blood on his hands.

Connor swallowed hard and took a deep breath. _Right. This was exactly the point. He had promised Murphy to keep going._ Fort Benning was just another set of imaginary letters on his imaginary list. There were a lot of other places he could go to. A lot of other military camps and forts and refuge centers. Only that he knew that they were going to be just as messy. A couple of bone chilling loud screams startled the Irishman and made him grab his brother's bowie knife.  
  
He didn't have much bullets left, which was pretty ironic. He had four guns and but hardly anything to use them, which was another reason why the Fort had been so important. Connor instinctively ducked down and hid behind a tree. He tried to make out the spot from where the screams were coming, but it was rather hard since they were echoing all over the surrounding woods. And it wouldn't stop. It only got worse.

"No! God, oh my god, please! No! Let her go, LET HER GO!"

And then there were gunshots. Connor started running. He could hear the screams and begging of a woman, and when he got closer he could actually hear that there were even more screams. _There were people! Finally!_ He supposed that the gunshots were probably there because of some walkers attacking them. _Maybe some people had managed to get out of the Fort? Maybe there was another camp?_

He just wanted to find people because he was so lonely.

The blonde MacManus ran even faster, only to come to an abrupt halt. He could make out a small camp not too far away from the Fort. There were two military vehicles and a couple of tents, which should be a good sign, but it wasn't. Because there was a massacre going on. Three men were lying on the ground, shredded with bullet wounds. Then there were two women and one teenaged girl, who was being brutally raped by two men by some of the bushes on the other side of the camp.

The other women were yelling and screaming at the army men. The males were laughing and kept firing at the dead bodies on the ground, which made them shake and twitch with every rifle bullet that hit them. Before Connor even got the chance to actually do something one of the army men suddenly lashed out and pointed his rifle at the screaming women, who were crying and holding on to each other, begging them to stop. As soon as they faced the muzzle they tried to run away, but then a hail of bullets already rained down on them, knocking them off their feet and down to the ground. Just then another one of the army men lost it, only that he was attacking the man who had just shot them.

"What the fuck was that about?!" he yelled and shoved the other, causing him to drop his gun.

"I shut those bitches up! They were fuckin annoying with all their screamin about! They're gonna draw even more of those dead psychos to us!" the slimmer shooter of the two justified his action and shoved the other buffer army man back, but the man wouldn't have any of that.

"And how the fuck are we supposed to get laid now, you fucking moron?! It's been months since I last got the..I mean just look at this fucking mess! The serge is gone and we finally get the chance to do this shit, and the first thing you gotta do is fuckin shoot 'em?!"

"Fuck you! They were annoying and just another buncha mouths to feed! We ain't got..."

Right then a bullet went straight through his head, causing another dead to fall down on the already bloodstained soil.

"Now we got another one less you piece of shit" the buffer man said and cocked his gun, but not without spitting on the other man's corpse first.

Connor, who had been watching the whole scenario without even getting a chance to step in, ducked down when the man suddenly turned around and scanned the surrounding area, while chewing on something what looked like a gum.

"Asshole" he muttered and then made his way to the other two men, who were still busy with the remaining screaming and crying woman.

He had just turned his back on Connor when the Irishman drew one of his guns and pulled the trigger, killing the man before he got to the other two men. Because of all the screaming and chaos around them, and because of the fact that the blonde still had the silencers on, the two remaining soldiers did not hear the shot or how Connor finally stepped out and made his way over to them. And once again his mind was not working at all, as if his body was just carrying out the orders, the job God had given him and that was even more relevant now that the world had ended.

_Destroy all that which is evil._

Undead people, rapists and murderers, it didn't matter anymore. This was his life now. Kill or be killed.  
And most of the time it meant kill now. Even more than in his past life.

He made his way over to the men and placed himself behind them. The screams had stopped by now and only their filthy and disgusting talk and laughing could be heard, and Connor did not waste a second longer. He pulled another gun and pointed both his weapons at their heads, and when they finally noticed him it was already too late. Two bullets hit the back of their heads, killing them immediately. One of the men fell right on top of the woman, the other right next to her.

For a moment Connor stood there, both guns raised and still pointed at the dead bodies. He knew that he was supposed to say the prayer, give them pennies, but somehow he couldn't do it any longer. Ever since he had last spoken the prayer back in Boston he just couldn't do it anymore. No pennies, no prayer, not even the rosaries, which he kept in his backpack now instead of wearing them.  
  
He still loved god and deep down inside he still believed in him, but ever since he had shot his brother he had forced himself not to pray for a while, to be mad at god for taking his twin but forcing him to stay on this rotting world. The Irishman let out a gentle sigh and put the guns away, and then he knelt down to get rid of the bodies and check on the woman.

She was already dead. _And once again he was all alone_.

No screams, no breathing, just another bloody mess all around him. Connor let go of the woman with a frustrated growl and got back up to check out the whole camp. He could see the bodies of the soldiers he had killed, but also their victims. Three men, three women, with the youngest getting raped. Another woman had ripped clothes, and all the females had been shot in their backs just like he had witnessed. Then he could see the men's wounds. It looked like they had been shot in the front. The Irishman supposed that they had tried to stop the military men from attacking their women, only to get mowed down by bullets.

When the two other women had been too loud they had been shot as well. Connor closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It was like he could still hear their screams in his head, and once again he cursed himself for not being there in time to safe them. But he also cursed himself because he didn't even care anymore, didn't even feel anything anymore. No regret, no disappointment. Just the utterly dark and deep grief.  
  
He walked past all the bodies and searched the camp for something useful. He found some ammo and a little bit of food, but it looked like the small group had just escaped the bloody mess at the Fort, that they had been trying to set up another small camp. It was absolutely useless, and once again those evil thoughts crossed his mind when he saw all the dead bodies all around him.

_Might as well shoot yourself._

Just so he didn't have to hear Murphy's screams every night, just so he didn't have to watch him and all the other people die ever day and every night. He was all alone everytime, and no matter what he did, he could never save anyone, never help anyone, never be with anyone.

He was so incredibly lonely and depressed.

For a second he actually considered pointing the gun at himself. Pull the trigger and end it, just like he had wanted to do it right after Murphy's death. He stood by the bodies and froze completely, his fingers twitching and almost urging to take his gun. Just when he was about to actually do it the radio inside one of the cars came to life.

"...fuge camps in Atlanta. We offer food, shelter and protection by the national guard and military. I repeat. The city center of Atlanta is completely safe and protected. We offer food, shelter and protection. Please stay off the major roads and stay safe. We are one of the three refuge camps in Atlanta. We offer..."

Connor looked up and stared at the car as he listened to the emergency broadcast that kept repeating itself over and over again. He knew that maybe it was just another dead end, but right now he didn't care. He needed someone to guide his way and make him do something. He needed god to tell him what to do.  
  
Because without any guidance he would just end up doing something very stupid. He just knew it. The Irishman grabbed his bag and all the things he collected and approached the car with the broadcast because he had a new plan, a new destination.

Atlanta.

* * *

_Help us..._  
  
The begging and screaming of women and men in his head wouldn't stop. And then there they were: Murphy's screams, calling his name, shouting and shouting. A violent pull on his shirt snapped him out of it and he realized that it weren't the people of Fort Benning, and it certainly wasn't Murphy who was shouting his name. There was a violent ache in his shoulder because the man next to him was grabbing his right arm and kept pulling. No, Murphy's screams weren't back, it was _Daryl_ who was shouting at him.

"Do something!" he yelled as he kept kicking and moving, and just then Connor could see what was going on.

When he had zoned out a walker had crawled out from underneath a car and was grabbing his friend's leg, trying to bite him and attack him.  
The walker didn't get to do it because Daryl kept kicking and fighting, and the hunter didn't get to kill the undead because of the angle.

"Do something!" he yelled once more and Connor finally reacted.

He darted forward and started kicking the undead hard, and then he lunged out and stomped the walkers head, forcing it to crack and split wide open with guts and pieces of his skull and his brains raining down on the asphalt. Both Connor and Daryl were panting because of the attack, and the hunter looked both furious and confused.

"What the hell was that about?! That geek could've chewed on me, yah moron!" he complained and hit his friend's injured shoulder on purpose.

Connor just winced and placed his broken hand on it, whilst using his other hand to place it on his throbbing and warm forehead.

"Fuck, 'm sorry man. I just zoned out."

Daryl frowned and Connor took a deep breath. He pointed at the corner from where they could hear all the moaning.

"It's just that there's a fuckton of walkers over there, and they won't fucking shut up. They keep begging and shit like that."

The hunter frowned even more.

"Begging."

"Aye. I fuckin told ye, ever since I got bit two days ago I can hear all that bullshit in my head whenever walkers are close and it's driving me nuts, man" he muttered and started rotating his shoulder again to relax his tensed muscles a bit. Daryl watched him just a bit longer, then he approached his friend, grabbed his hand to drag it away from his forehead to place it on it himself.

"That's cos your melon's still being fried in there."

He let go and shook his head.

"Why the fuck did yah say yes to this shit then? Been here for two days and all I see is you running around and doing shit.  
You got bit, and your shoulder and hand's fucked up. You should rest, man."

"There's a fucking war going on here, alright? I need ta make a plan, make this work" Connor muttered and then turned around to head for the car.  
He ignored the fact that he felt like shit right now, and he also ignored the walkers that were close by and kept walking.

"Connor!" Daryl yelled after him but the Irishman just waved his friend off.

When he reached the car and all the shouting and groaning got louder he decided to walk past the vehicle, making it only worse for his friend.

"Hey, where are yah going?"

"'m gonna have a look!"

He could hear how Daryl ran after him, but he kept going. As soon as he walked around the corner he could see that there were a whole bunch of walkers piling up on one fence that separated another prison yard from the parking lot. There was no getting in and they all were just standing there, moaning and reaching out and gasping and shaking the fence. Daryl eventually caught up with his friend.

"Hey, what the hell did we all agree on when we were talking about running of on our own?" he growled and hit his friend once again, who kept staring at the walkers with a blank look on his face. It was obvious that there was something going on, and truth be told, it freaked Daryl out a bit. There certainly was some weird shit going on with his friend, and part of the hunter was actually scared.

Connor had been bit two times now, and two times all that infectious walker stuff had entered his body. He didn't know much about all that anatomy and medical bullshit, but he was pretty sure that there had to be some percentage of walker stuff that was still inside his friend's body, because otherwise the walkers wouldn't react to him that way, wouldn't see them as their own.  
  
 _What if this time there was some part of his friend that was now actually connecting to those undead pricks? Or even worse, what if his brain was somehow damaged or slowly dying off because of all this?_ He had seen the video back at the CDC. How the virus had entered the brain and killed it, switched it off step by step until it was just the infection operating the brain. The whole brain stuff could also explain his friend's hallucinations or whatever it was. He prayed to god that Connor was alright.

"Maybe we should just get the car for Andrea and head back" he muttered, trying to get his friend away from the walkers.

Not only because the fence could give in any minute, but also because the Irishman was acting super weird around them lately.

"And when we're done we can work on the tat, just like yah said back inside. Maybe we.."

"I think we should use those dead fucks somehow" Connor suddenly spoke up and put his healthy hand in his pocket.

"Lead them inside certain parts of te prison as protection from any sort of attack by te people of Woodbury. Just like I told ye about the tombs and the yard. I mean just look all around us, there's thousands of those fucks. And maybe fer the first time they're actually useful. Like cattle."

Daryl examined the walkers a little closer. He knew that his friend got a point and that it was actually pretty smart, but he still didn't like it.  
Walkers were a double edged sword, and just because they didn't attack Connor it didn't mean that they wouldn't attack them.

"Let's just..let's just get the car outta here and deal with Andrea first. We can sort that out later" he muttered and grabbed the keys from his friend to get back to the car.

Connor watched the undead a little while longer and then followed Daryl. As the two men made their way back to the car the hunter still kept looking at his friend with a worried look on his face. He tried to distract the two of them from everything that was happening around them right now, so he started talking.

"I talked to Merle when yah were talking t'Andrea" he muttered and Connor looked at his friend.

"Aye, so?"

"He's sorry 'bout your picture and everything. Really."

Connor smirked tiredly.

"And you think I don't know ye well enough ta know that yer just saying this ta make him look better and gimme some peace?  
We both know that he didn't really say that."

Daryl chewed on his lips and shrugged.

"Yeah, well maybe he didn't say that. But I know my bro and he's real sorry."

"And I think yer trying too hard ta make us like him."

Daryl sighed. They had almost reached the car and slowed down.

"Merle just...he just does some shit sometimes without meaning anything by that. And I told 'im to leave yah be.  
He's an ass, but he ain't no bad guy. "

Connor snorted.

"Aye, he tortured and nearly killed Glenn outta the goodness of his heart. Not ta mention that he threatened ta kill me if I get close ta you."

"Well, you didn't tell him anything else yesterday. Besides, he's just as jealous of yah as you are of him.  
Cos I told 'im that you were a better bro to me than he ever was."

The older of the two looked up with a surprised smirk.

"Did ye?"

Daryl avoided direct eye contact and grabbed the keys to get the door open.

"If he's smart he'll try to live up to that now and shouldn't be no problem anymore" he muttered and tried to insert the key.

Right then the car alarm went off. Both men widened their eyes in surprise and the hunter was furious in a matter of seconds.

"I thought it's this one, yah moron!" he yelled and tried to shut the car alarm up by clicking some of the buttons on the car keys.

Right then they could hear the sound and flickering of lights of another car, which was actually on the other side of the parking lot and way closer to the exit.

"Well it looks like it's the other one! Fucking kill it!" Connor answered and turned around.

He could already see a couple of walkers from the road making their way towards their prison.   
He didn't even need to see them, he could already hear them anyway.  
He could see them reaching out for him, trying to get to him, talk to him.

"Kill it!" he yelled once more as Daryl kept pressing the button in confusion and panic, but nothing would happen.

The Irishman then drew his gun with a growl and shot a bullet at the window to make it break.  
His friend used the time to position himself by the back of the car to take aim at any walkers that got too close.

"Hurry, this is your fault you dumbass!" he yelled over his shoulder as Connor disappeared inside the car so he could open the engine hood.

"'m fuckin trying! Why are those things so fucking loud?!" the blonde yelled back.

As soon as the hood was open he jumped out of the car so he could get to the cables of the battery.

"Those dead freaks broke through the fence! Hurry!" Daryl yelled once more and shot the first two walkers that got too close.

After a couple of seconds of fumbling with the cables Connor finally managed to cut them and the alarm finally died.  
But a whole bunch of walkers were still staggering in their direction.

"Come on, let's go!" the hunter shouted after getting one of his arrows back and then making his way back to the exit and car they wanted to take.

They could already see that Rick, Glenn, Maggie and the others had opened the steel doors back to their yard so they could cover their backs and give them some cover fire if needed. Both Connor and Daryl started running, and when they had almost reached the gate the younger of the two suddenly heard a loud thud behind him, making him turn around. He let out a surprised gasp and shouted "No!" when he suddenly saw that his friend was lying there on the ground, unmoving and unconscious by the looks of it.

"What's wrong with him?!" he heard Glenn shout, but Daryl was already on his way back to get the Irishman, ignoring all the walkers that were coming closer and closer.

"Daryl!" he heard Rick yell, and a few seconds later he could fast footsteps behind him.

Just then he reached the blonde who was still lying on the ground, and his heart nearly missed a beat because he didn't know what was going on.

"Hey, hey! Come on, man! We gotta go!" he muttered and hit his friend's cheek a couple of times, but without any luck.

Connor was still knocked out completely.   
A couple of seconds later Rick already reached them and helped the hunter to get his friend to the other side of the gate.

"What happened?" he asked as he shot another walker with his gun and then grabbed Connor's arm to lift him up.

"I... I don't know! We were just talkin and he..he was fine a minute ago and then he just dropped!"


	47. Locked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I spent the last couple of weeks improving this fic and I'm now back with new chapters!  
> I'm gonna change the order of the tv storyline. From now on I'll be mixing episodes 3x12 and 3x13 with episode 3x15!  
> And once I'm done with that I'm gonna write my own finale. Just a heads up.
> 
>  **setting** : episode 12 " _Clear_ "

"The wound needs to be cleaned at least once a day. And he needs to take more antibiotics" Herschel said as he took another look at Connor's shoulder. The wound was red and angry all around the stitches, and there still were a lot of darkened veins all around it. Daryl had not known that it really was this bad, because there had been no opportunity to take a look at the actual wound until now because it had always been covered up with a bandage. Not to mention how Connor had kept acting like he was alright for the past two days. The hunter looked at his friend with a worried look on his face.

"What 'bout the fever? And why'd he pass out like that? I mean we were just talkin a minute earlier and he seemed fine."

"His temperature is a little higher than usual, but it's not as high as last time. Don't worry too much, but that's still a serious infection.  
He needs to rest or else he's gonna pass out more than once. When was the last time he ate something?"

Daryl bit his lower lip and shrugged.

"Hell, I don't know."

"He needs to eat. And drink. His immune system needs to be strong to fight this. You need to make sure he rests for a couple of days."

The hunter frowned.

"What, with all this? There's a war going on. We ain't got no time for that."

Rick, who had been watching the whole scene from outside the cell, folded his arms and sighed.

"There's nothing much he can do now anyway. I'm gonna head for King County tomorrow. Gather some supplies, weapons and ammo. There's going to be a war, you're right about this. We need him fit for that. I need you to look after him and your brother while I'm gone. Glenn and Maggie are gonna coordinate things in the meantime. Don't worry. We can manage without him for a couple of days."

Daryl frowned even more.  
When Connor had told him about Rick's plan he'd had a hard time believing this, but now it looked like it was really true.

"You want me to babysit people while you go off on your own? You sure?"

The former policeman nodded.

"Yeah. I'm gonna take Michonne. And Carl."

The hunter looked at the man opposite him for a little while longer, only to look back at his friend again.  
Connor was just lying there, shirtless, and ugly wide bandage right around his shoulder.   
Herschel and Rick did the same until the oldest of the three suddenly chuckled.

"He really is some sort of miracle, isn't he? He won't die. Maybe he's god answer to all this."

Daryl raised an eyebrow but decided not to say anything to that. He knew how religious both his friend and the Greene family were. And no matter how ridiculous he really thought it was, he kinda had to agree there. Once again he couldn't help but stare at Connor's rosary, the cross on his arm, and he also had to picture the tattoo on his friend's back.   
  
Everything was screaming religion at him, and even though he was not a believer himself he had to think about how Herschel really had a point there. Should they ever come across another scientist like Jenner, or should they manage to get that doctor nerd from Woodbury over here after they had won the war, then maybe, just _maybe_ , Connor's blood could be their salvation, their answer to that godforsaken disease.

* * *

Connor woke up with a throbbing pain in his shoulder. He thought that he was used to the whole thing by now, but truth was that he wasn't. Not at all. The Irishman opened his eyes with an awkward grunt and found himself staring right at the bottom of the bed above him. He turned his head with a confused frown to check out where he was, and he let out a gentle sigh when he recognized the place. It was pretty dark, but he still knew that he was back inside his and Daryl's cell.

He placed both his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes with a tired yawn. He still felt like crap and dizzy as hell, but he could tell that something was different. The first thing he noticed was that he was freezing his ass off because he didn't wear a t-shirt anymore. Then he felt a new and much tighter bandage around his shoulder. He placed his hand on it with a frown. He didn't really know what the fuck was going on with him. All he remembered was all the walkers at the parking lot, how he had been running from them, with Daryl right in front of him, and all the screaming and begging in his head. And then...nothing. He let out another gentle sigh and shook his head.

"Yah awake?" he heard Daryl say from the bed above. Connor stared at the bottom and nodded after a while.

"Aye. Te fuck happened? What about the car?"

He could feel the bed moving as Daryl shifted above him.

"Gone. Rick sent Andrea back. And you dumbass passed out."

Connor snorted.

"The fuck I did" he muttered and scratched his shoulder because the bandages were itching.

There was no way he had passed out. Passing out was the shit girls did. Not tough fuckers like him. No way.

"Rick 'n I carried your ass back in here. Your wound looked pretty bad. We cleaned it and stuffed you with pills. Herschel ordered you to stay in bed and rest for a couple 'o days. Rick's gonna get guns tomorrow. Me, Maggie 'n Glenn we're gonna get things under control here."

The Irishman frowned angrily and shook his head.

"What are ye people, stupid? I ain't gonna do shit. You 'n me we're gonna work on a plan ta kill this psycho freak over at Woodbury.  
Maybe even tomorrow when Rick's gone. We don't have ta strain our luck. He's against it, so we gotta do it behind his back."

"We ain't gonna do nothin" Daryl growled and stared at the ceiling above him. He had been looking forward to that discussion. Not.

"It's fer the greater good. If ye don't wanna help me, fine. Fuck it. 'm gonna do it meself. Someone's gotta do it."

Daryl hit his mattress with an angry growl.

"So that yah can pass out again and get your ass killed? No yah won't. Let Rick and the others handle this. How many times do I have t'tell yah.  
We ain't on our own anymore. You just asked me a couple of hours ago. We're a _team._ No one-man jobs. End of discussion."

It was quiet for a while as Connor kept scratching his shoulder and Daryl kept staring at the ceiling.

"What'd Herschel say? Why'd it happen?" the blonde asked eventually.

The hunter shrugged.

"Exhaustion or something like that. Cos you dumbass don't eat and sleep and keep working yah ass off ever since we got back here.  
You're infected, you're sick, and yah gotta rest or else yah gonna fuck yourself up even more."

Connor pressed his lips together and stared at the bottom of Daryl's bed for a while.

"'m just trying ta keep everyone safe" he admitted after a while.

Silence.

"And I don't wanna bury any more people after all this shit" the Irishman went on and sighed.

Daryl turned his head, as if trying to look down at his friend.

"And how'd yah wanna achieve this? By making us bury your ass instead?"

"Shut it."

The hunter folded his arms behind his head and looked up again.  
He could hear Connor shifting and turning underneath him, and after a while of just listening he decided to talk again.

"I did some more thinking about your plan."

"Aye?"

"I think we should kidnap that doctor fella. The one that got yah" Daryl suggested and Connor frowned.

"What? Have ye lost it?"

Daryl shook his head.

"Think 'bout it. He could help you. And make us understand. Herschel's good enough for small injuries and all that, but he ain't got the knowledge t'do anything with your crap. But four eyes, he might be able to do something. Maybe even find a cure or something."

The Irishman snorted.

"Ye don't seriously believe that shit."

"Why not?"

Connor folded his arms with an angry growl.

"Cos I ain't gonna let that douchebag anywhere near me again. Should he ever just fuckin put a hand on me ever again then 'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes."

Daryl got angry all over again.

"So what are yah gonna do. Keep this all to yourself, yah selfish bastard?"

"We could go ta the CDC as soon as this shit's over. Maybe there's something, I heard..."

"It blew up last year. We were there."

Connor sighed.

"Shit" he muttered gently and shook his head.

Daryl turned on his side and stared at the dirty wall.

"Whatever. I need t'sleep. And yah better do this as well. We can talk about that shit tomorrow."

* * *

Connor woke up late the next day, because last night had been the first one in a while during which he had been able to sleep through without having any nightmares. He had not dreamt about anything in fact, and when he woke up he felt a bit better compared to the day before. The Irishman didn't know why he had been able to do that, whether it had been because of the fact that he had burned his last memory of his brother yesterday or if it had just been because of the exhaustion.  
  
Apart from the obvious pain in his shoulder and hand he felt relatively fine, at least until he heard the rattling of keys. Connor sat up in a matter of seconds and nearly hit his head on the bed above him. He was staring at his friend in surprise, who was standing on the other side of their cell door. Which was locked.

"What te fuck?!"

"Yah gonna stay in here today. Bed rest. Like Herschel said."

Connor got up and grabbed the bars with his healthy hand.

"What the hell, you can't just fuckin lock me in here!"

"Watch me" Daryl said with an evil smirk and rattled the keys in front of his friend's eyes.

"You fucker!" Connor yelled and grabbed his friend by his shirt when he was just about to leave him.

He pulled Daryl closer to the door and glared at him.

"Open the fuckin door."

"Nope. Yah gonna do as we say. No running off on your own, no killing the Governor, no doing nothin in fact.   
Yah gonna lie low and wait for your wound t'heal."

Connor frowned angrily and wouldn't let go of Daryl, no matter how hard the hunter tried to fight his grip.

"I'm no fuckin five anymore! Ye can't force me ta do shit! I didn't escape Woodbury just ta be locked up again, now lemme out."

"Nope."

"I said let me out!"

Daryl smirked because his friend's outburst amused him.

"Why don't yah use the time and keep working on your map? Maybe draw some flowers on it. Didn'tcha say your plans are really Picasso?"

Connor narrowed his eyes at him.

"Daryl. 'm not fucking shitting ye. 'm gonna shoot yer ass if ye don't let me outta here."

Daryl sudden poked his injured shoulder which made the Irishman wince.

"This needs to be cleaned at least once a day. And there's some pills on that table. Yah better off taking 'em" he said and used the time Connor was busy nursing his shoulder to walk away from the cell.

"Hey! Hey, get back here!" Connor yelled as soon as he noticed that his friend was leaving, but Daryl kept going and headed for the stairs.

"I'm gonna keep yelling until ye get me outta here ye stupid redneck asshole!"

Daryl rattled with the keys again and shrugged.

"Can't hear yah anyway. Me and the others we're gonna secure the outside and kill a bunch of walkers."

"Fuck you!" he heard Connor yell and a second later there was the loud rattling of the bars, sounding like someone was kicking them.

* * *

He spent the first hour trying to get out, using anything he could find in their bags. Trouble was that Daryl had taken anything useful with him, so Connor really was stuck in this godforsaken cell. He couldn't believe that his stupid _, stupid_ friend had really locked him in here just because of a silly little passing out thing.   
  
And he certainly couldn't understand how the rest of the people actually supported the hunter there. It sounded like Rick, Michonne and Carl had really left the prison to get back to the Grimes family's old hometown to get some ammo and guns, which meant that he couldn't ask Carl for help either.

He had tried to beg Beth by being the best charmer version of himself (he suspected that she had a bit of a crush on him), but even that wouldn't get him out of there, because Daryl seemed to have told everyone to keep him locked up. After kicking and shaking the bars Connor spent some time pacing up and down the cell. He was both annoyed and nervous, because he wasn't used to this whole thing anymore.  
  
It brought back bad memories about the Hoag, how much he had hated to be locked inside such a fucking small and inhumane cell, and this wasn't exactly any better. After about two hours of being locked in he came to the conclusion that Daryl really wanted to pull this through, and he knew that there was only one way to get out of here, and that was by keeping to his friend's rules.

He was not supposed to do anything.

Connor let out one final sigh to express his surrender. He lay back down on his bed and then stared at the bottom of the one above for a couple of minutes. Back in the old days he had been the quiet and calm twin, but ever since Murphy had died it felt like he had picked up on some of his mannerisms, as if he was trying to be both MacManus twins.  
  
Now he was nervous and fidgety, and he kept tossing and turning because he couldn't find a comfortable position. When he was lying on his left side then his broken hand would lie there all uncomfortable and hurt, and when he turned around he couldn't lie down at all because then he was lying right on his bitten shoulder.

It was a fucking curse, but he had to admit that apart from all this the whole lying around thing actually felt better. It was just weird because he was not used to it anymore. For the past couple of months he had been running around and fighting or working every day. Being lazy and doing nothing for a whole couple of hours felt wrong and even dangerous, and he did not like it at all.   
  
The Irishman grabbed his bag which he had put right next to his bed and searched it until he found the super old newspaper he still carried around with him. He didn't even know where he had found it, but for some reason he would keep reading it, just to keep his mind occupied and just so he could remember what the world had used to be before all this. The Irishman grabbed the pencil with the eraser at the end and then turned pages until he reached page 12, the one with the crossword puzzle.

Back in the old days, when they had been living a normal life in Boston without any undead people walking around or them having to shoot gangsters Connor had always started his day like this. A couple of beers, a cigarette, something to eat, the newspaper and some stupid crossword puzzle. Murphy had used to laugh at him because of that, called him an old granny or their secret real mother because of the way he acted sometimes. And he had complained about the piles of newspapers by their tv more than once. But the older MacManus did not care. He liked crossword puzzles, because he liked to think about stuff and because he liked to learn about new things.

The Irishman looked up once more and eyed the iron bars with an angry frown, hoping that maybe now Daryl would be standing there and let him out. But no such thing would happen. He was all on his own. Connor sighed and started erasing all the letters he had written on the newspaper more than once. He had used the eraser so many times already that all the black lines of the crossword puzzle were slowly fading, but somehow he would keep going, keep solving it every morning he got the opportunity to do that.   
  
Simply to maintain some sort of normality. The blonde knew every word, every question, every letter by heart, but whenever he started solving it he pretended to have to think it through. And as he kept writing and erasing he felt a dull pain in his shoulder, still felt a bit dizzy and confused because of the whole Woodbury and passing out thing.

Maybe Daryl was right. Now that he thought about it, he was _very_ tired and exhausted, it had just been the stress and danger and all the running that had kept him going, like he had been drinking too much coffee until now. But now that there weren't any walkers biting him or any psychos putting him in chains and threatening to kill him he was actually quite calm, and even _bored_.


	48. Drug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episodes 12 " _Clear_ " and 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

After maybe 20 minutes of just lying around and reading and writing on his newspaper Connor got distracted by footsteps. The Irishman lay the paper on his naked belly and listened up, trying to make out who was entering the block. Daryl had taught him a lot about that whole tracking and listening thing during the winter. He could now distinguish people by simply listening to the way the walked.  
  
He knew it wasn't Daryl or Rick or any of the women, and after listening for several minutes he came to the conclusion that it was Merle. Daryl's brother. He let out an annoyed sigh and got up, trying to have a look downstairs. It sounded like no one else was inside the cell block. Just like Daryl had told him. So maybe the others really were outside, which meant that he was all alone with that redneck asshole.  
  
Connor grabbed one of the bars of the cell door with his healthy hand and just stared down and listened, and soon he could hear the ripping and tearing of several things that sounded like clothes or bed sheets. The Irishman frowned and came to the conclusion that Merle didn't really know he was in here as well, so he decided to talk.

"Te fuck are are doing down there?" he asked, his voice echoing through the halls.

The ripping stopped and then there were footsteps until Merle Dixon finally came into view. He was wearing a dirty undershirt and held a pillow in his hands, and when he saw that Connor was locked in his cell the redneck started grinning and laughing.

"Well look at that, blondie. What'd they do t'you? Did Officer friendly look you up in here cos of your coocoo?"

Connor narrowed his eyes at the man below.

"Fuck you. Where's yer brother? He's te little fuck who locked me in here."

Merle started laughing even more and pointed at the Irishman with his knife.

"Well looks like that little bug finally listened to his good ol' big bro. Told him he'd better get away from your faggy green ass. Looks like he followed my advice, didn't he" the older of the two muttered and then disappeared inside a cell again. There was more rattling and ripping and Connor just listened, because he couldn't do anything about it anyway.

"What's all that ripping shit fer?" he asked because he still couldn't see what Merle was doing, but he could hear him chuckle.

"Jesus, people actually understand whatcha talkin 'bout? You got a couple'a fish sticks between your teeth?"

Connor gritted his teeth and shook his head as he let go of the bars to get back to his bed.

"Oh fuck you" he just muttered and decided to ignore Merle, because he had promised Daryl to keep it down.

The ripping would go on for several minutes until he could hear the older Dixon talk again.

"Hey mick, when you pussies found and scooped out that prison, you found any pills? Shrooms? Sweet lil powder bags?"

Connor raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"Why, did yer drug whore run off? Fuck you, even if we did find any of that stuff, ain't gonna tell ye shit."

"Just lookin for a little vacation, blondie. No need t'get your panties in a bunch."

The ripping resumed and Connor just listened for a while. He had always known that Daryl's brother had been a real scumbag. Drugs. Arrests. Beatings. Racism. He remembered how shocked he'd been when he had first seen the drug bag, which Daryl had always carried around with him, even on that day when they had first met.  
  
He remembered how much hatred he had felt for this sort of thing, for this man, and after hearing all the stories about Daryl's childhood and family he was not surprised that he was even more disgusted by the whole thing.

He honestly could not understand how his friend had been able to put up with this bullshit. He had seen and felt how violent and hotheaded Daryl really could be, so how he had never tried to beat the shit out of his brother's drug-crazed mind was beyond him. Connor felt even more sorry for the hunter, because now he could hear and see it first hand. He was so angry that he couldn't get out of his cell right now, because just for the whole trying and searching for drugs thing Merle deserved a punch in his face and a kick in his balls. That was the least thing he could do for the younger Dixon, considering how he couldn't follow his do-drugs-and-you're-dead policy here.

"And ye think you can find that shit in mattresses. First thing those dirty fucks did when all hell broke loose was take their drugs with 'em.  
And 'm pretty sure they stripped te place clean more than once back in the old days."

He heard Merle snort downstairs.

"Best dope I ever had was in a matress. Not like you'd know anything 'bout the whole prison business.  
There's loads a places you can hide stuff when they lock your ass in a shithole like that."

"How 'bout ye try the inside of the bedframes. They're hollow. Good ta hide forks 'n knives in 'em" Connor answered and heard how Merle stopped ripping stuff and got back on his feet.

"Hoho, blondie! You're the smart one, aren'tcha."

"Ye can also check out the laundry room, te old washing machines. I can help you with that. All ye gotta do is let me out" the Irishman went on, but of course, Merle wasn't _that_ stupid.

Once again there was chuckling, and then he could hear the screeching of metal across the concrete floor.

"Nice try, leprechaun. But I think yah just trying t'get me to let your ass outta there. Ain't no way. Besides, I don't need no help from anyone" the older Dixon grunted as he was obviously trying to move a bed. Connor listened to the whole thing a little while longer and threw his newspaper away. Right then he noticed Daryl's bag and the map. He remembered his original plan on the whole Woodbury thing, noticed that everyone was gone right now. _Including_ Daryl and Rick.

_He serves his purpose, that's fer sure. And he knows that town and that guy better than anyone, doesn't he? He's been with them fer months. He'd be our map, you'd be my watchdog. With ye around he can't pull any bullshit on me, we three make our way in there, kill the Governor, his right hand men, make Andrea take over te city and we all live happily ever after. It sounds simple, it is simple._

The blonde turned his head to look at his cell door again, and after spending a couple of minutes thinking about it he came to the conclusion that maybe this was a good time to start talking.

"Aye. Ye don't need help. Because you don't even gotta go over there."

He heard Merle snort and grunt downstairs, as he was still trying to find some drugs.

"And why's that, huh?"

"Cos I got yer drugs right up here. Daryl kept them fer you. They're in his bag."

There was silence for a while, until Connor could hear footsteps downstairs. Then they were moving up the stairs, until they were echoing down the passage way upstairs. Connor grinned to himself and got up to greet the older Dixon, who turned up in front of his cell a moment later with an angry and yet unsure frown on his face.

"You're bluffing."

Connor gave him an evil smirk and shook his head. He then turned around to head for his friend's bag, and after searching it for a bit he found the plastic bag with all the bottles and blue powder in it. The Irishman presented it to Daryl's brother and put it on the small table on the other side of the bed. He then searched his trouser pocket for his last but one pack of smokes to light one up. He looked at Merle and thought about offering him one, but as soon as he faced the man he felt so much hatred and disgust all over again that he decided not to do it. He lit his cigarette and exhaled after a moment of obviously enjoying the way Merle was staring at his bag.

"Alright. Hand it over, mick, and I talk t'my brother and he'll let you out."

Connor snorted, sending a big cloud of smoke out of his mouth.

"Aye, 'f course. And ye think I'm so stupid ta believe this?"

Merle got angry and grabbed the bars of the cell door. He started shaking and kicking it with an extremely aggressive look on his face, but it wouldn't give in. The older Dixon let go of the door again and gave the Irishman his evil twisted grin again.

"Lockedchah up tight, didn't they? Now you're all alone in here, trapped like a yirdie birdie in a golden cage."

Connor shrugged and blew out some more smoke.  
Merle then noticed the bandage on his shoulder, since the Irishman had not wasted a single minute on actually putting a shirt on.

"What's the name? Corey?"

Connor put the cigarette back in his mouth and then searched Merle's drug bag for the heavy pain pills his friend had given him two days ago.

"Connor" he mumbled, cigarette dancing around the edges of his mouth. He then threw some of the pills in his mouth since Daryl and Herschel had ordered him to take antibiotics anyway, but he was just doing it to get a rise out of Merle.   
  
The older Dixon was obviously furious because he was touching his stuff, and Connor was sure that they were going to get into another fight over this sooner or later, but none of that mattered right now. Merle kept to the rules of playing nice since he wanted his drugs back, and Connor used the opportunity to get a rise out of the man a little while longer.

"Connor, huh. I can see why my brother likes you."

Connor gave the man yet another evil smirk and blew some smoke in his direction.

"Shoulda seen how much he _liked_ me when we were all alone last winter" he retorted and grinned even more when he saw the look on Merle's face.

He didn't know if Daryl had told him about how they had spent some time together for a couple of months with no one else around, and it wasn't like anything like that had happened, but he liked to tease the hell out of the older Dixon with that, because he knew how much he hated his tight friendship with his brother. The man opposite Connor pressed his lips together and gave him a look that could kill, but every once in a while he would look at his drugs, and it was obvious that they were more important than his anger right now.

"Alright, yah stupid mick. You've had your fun, now out with it before I bash your teeth on those bars. The hell do yah want me t'do so I can get my dope back."

Connor wouldn't stop grinning, now that he had Daryl's brother right where he wanted. For just another minute he enjoyed the whole thing, then he took another drag on his cigarette, blew out some smoke and sighed. No more grinning. This was official business now.

"I got a couple a questions fer you first, before we get to business."

"Like what" the redneck growled and folded his muscular arms, careful not to cut himself with his makeshift weapon.

Connor nodded and kept smoking.

"'s it true that ye weren't there when that sick fuck ye call yer father shredded yer brother's whole body with those scars?"

He could almost watch the blood leave Merle's face as he mentioned that topic.

"That ain't none of your concern" the man growled and looked like he was gonna murder Connor for that.

"Just answer te fuckin question."

"Yeah. Now give me the fucking bag. I don't need no open door t'kill yah."

"So if ye could do something ta make it right, ta make up fer how you screwed up there, would ye do it? Fer Daryl?"

Both men stared at each other for a while, and much to the Irishman's surprise there were no death threats, no insults, nothing but an intense stare down and a single "Yes."

"Would ye die fer him?"

"What kinda bullshit is that, man? Just give me the goddamn bag, yah stupid mick! What's this? Oprah? Candid camera?"

"Just answer the fuckin questions or 'm gonna burn yer shit!" Connor yelled at him and Merle grabbed the bars with an angry growl.

"Of course I would! He's my _brother_! I would die for him just like I would've killed that pansy-assed crack sniffin asshole who did that to him!" Merle yelled back and the Irishman fell quiet. He stared at the man opposite him, because he was quite surprised at what he saw. There was honesty in the redneck's eyes.  
  
Honesty, and maybe even a hint of brotherly love. It didn't make the whole drug thing any better, and it certainly wouldn't improve the fact that Merle was still a terrible brother to Daryl. But it certainly made Connor respect him a tiny bit more. The Irishman nodded and then threw his cigarette to the ground.

"Good. Cos I need yer help. Do it right and ye get yer shit. You play, I pay."

Merle snorted and let go of the bars. He then started laughing and shook his head.

" _You_? Need _my_ help? This really is candid camera, ain't it? Come out, come out, people!" Merle yelled and threw his hands in the air.

He then looked to his left and right as if he was trying to make out any camera teams.

"Aren't yah adorable" he went on and chuckled. Connor just kept looking at him until the redneck calmed down.

"I want to kill the Governor. And yer gonna help me with that."

Merle wouldn't stop chuckling and actually had tears in his eyes by now.  
He rubbed his eye with his remaining hand and shook his head.

"You micks really are the jokesters, I gotta give yah that."

Connor narrowed his eyes.

"'m not fucking shitting you. Now stop acting like a fucking girl and listen up, shitface."

Merle eventually stopped laughing, but there was a gentle chuckle every now and then.

"Sorry blondie, I know I told yah that yah got the eyes of a killer, but sweet mercy, never thought yah'd let that get to your head like that.  
Bite sure messed with your melon big time."

"Yer religious?" Connor asked and ignored the redneck's talk.

Merle nodded after a while, but the grin wouldn't get away.

"Yeah, yeah. But certainly not such a fana.."

"Ever heard 'bout the mafia killings up North 'n Boston and New York a couple a years ago?"

"Those bible-banging preachers who watched too many action flicks? 'Saints' or any of that crap? Sure heard 'bout 'em.   
We used t'laugh at those freaks back at the club. Why?"

Connor nodded.

"Well hello."

Merle kept chuckling to himself until he finally seemed to get it.

"Noooo shit! You?"

Connor nodded.

"Aye. Small world, ain't it? So ye get te picture. I got experience."

Merle pointed at the blonde and snapped his fingers multiple times.

"Now I know why your ugly face looked so familiar, yah were all over the news just a couple 'a months before shit went down. Yeah, yeah! Now I get it! I was gonna make fun of Darylena cos yer bro really looked like him, but looks like we forgot all 'bout that when shit hit the van. Dang. Blondie. Maybe yah really ain't such a pussy" Merle muttered to himself as he eyed the Irishman a little closer.

He clicked his tongue and started grinning and chuckling again, and Connor slowly lost his patience.

"So are ye in or not? Else 'm gonna take yer fuckin brother. Don't matter. 'm gonna go there no matter what.  
We both know that this fucker needs ta be stopped or else this is gonna turn into a bloody massacre."

Merle snorted and shook his head.

"Sorry to disappoint, paddy. But that's suicide. I don't even need yo stupid bag. Yah were pretty much right 'bout the washing machines. But hey, nice try" the redneck answered and was about to walk away, but Connor approached the cell door and called after him.

"Rick ain't the guts nor the wits ta get us through this shit. You'n me both know what that Governor guy's capable off. You certainly even more than me. Sooner or later he's gonna burst through our doors and he's gonna kill us all. Just like you said yesterday. The kids, those women, Rick, me. He's gonna make ye die real slow, and he's gonna kill yer brother as well. No maybe about it."

Merle stopped walking and just listened.

"So ye either keep searching fer your fucking drugs and be that selfish prick who failed ta protect his brother from all these ugly scars on his back fer fucking _years_ , or yer gonna man up fer once in yer fucking worthless life and be a hero. And all ye gotta do is get me inside Woodbury and help me kill the right people. Which also happened ta stab yer back and wanted ta make you kill yer own brother. This ain't about fucking me. And I'm not asking fer yer help ta save my own ass. It might be a suicide mission. And I don't give a shit about that. Cos I'm willing ta die to protect Daryl. Question is: are you?"

He couldn't see what the older Dixon was doing, because Merle wouldn't turn around anymore. He was just standing there, back turned on Connor, who was waiting for an answer. The Irishman was even more surprised when his words didn't seem to have hit a nerve, because right then the redneck started walking again.

"Screw your bag" he just said and made his way down the stairs to leave the cell block.


	49. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** mixed episodes 12 " _Clear_ " and 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

Daryl wouldn't let his friend out of their cell until the end of the day. Rick had eventually returned after a couple of hours and was now helping the others outisde, which made the Irishman furious all over again. He didn't get how they kept him locked in this cell, but after complaining and shouting for several hours he still had to discover that it was useless. Connor had calmed down after a while and he had even taken a nap when the dizziness and pain in his shoulder had returned.  
  
He had used the rest of the day to work on his map and planned to kill the Governor on his own, now that it was obvious that people didn't seem to want to cooperate with him at all. The Irishman had made the decision to stop talking about it and kept it to himself now, because he didn't want to be locked up forever and because he didn't want Daryl to know that he was planning on going back there alone. He had thought this through for hours, and he came to the conclusion that it was just too dangerous to drag his friend with him anyway.   
  
He had already killed his brother with one of his stupid plans, and there was no way he was going to get Daryl killed now. It was probably a suicide mission, but he did not care. It wasn't like he wanted to die, he really wanted to live because despite all the crap that was going on he actually liked it here, liked all those people, but this was exactly the point.

He wanted them to be safe.

Connor looked up when he heard the rattling of keys and the creaking of the cell door.  
Daryl was standing there and looked at him with a slight smirk on his face.

"Yah still alive?" he muttered as he entered their cell and put his crossbow down. Connor put the map down and snorted.

"Fuck you. 'm gonna lock yer ass in here next."

Daryl chuckled and then sighed. Connor sat up a bit more and looked at his friend.

"How's things outside?"

The hunter sat down on the small stool and got rid of his boots.

"Same as ever. Piles of walking rotten meat. Rick, Maggie, Glenn 'n I spent all afternoon trying to clear out the parking lot to close the hole back there. Drove the cars around and moved trash and furniture to put up extra cover in the yard. And then we dragged all the tables outta the cafeteria and used 'em as barricades up in the walkways."

Connor just watched his friend and chewed on the inner side of his cheek.

"Could've helped ye with that, ye know? Yer not my mother, no need ta lock me in all day."

"Screw you. It's for your best" Daryl answered and then looked at the Irishman.

"Now get your ass over here and finish this goddamn thing on my back."

Connor raised both his eyebrows and started chuckling.

"Hoho look at her, bossing me around like there's no tamorrow" the Irishman answered but did as he was told.

He got up and searched his bag for the pen whereas Daryl got rid of his shirt and folded both his arms on the table. He still felt awkward because of the whole thing, but he wanted to use the time Merle was still sleeping outside their cell block. Sooner or later the younger Dixon would have to leave this cell to be with his brother as soon as he was allowed in here, and he really wanted to get this done to cover up as many scars as possible.

He didn't want Merle to see them every day, because he hated feeling like a victim and because he didn't want his brother to feel guilty. He still couldn't stop thinking about the look on the older Dixon's face when he had first seen the scars. For years he had been able to hide them from his brother, and now this.   
  
He wanted his past to be gone, didn't want to be reminded of their father, didn't want Merle to be reminded of everything that had been done to him. Because he knew that the old man had been even more horrible to him. After a couple of minutes of waiting he finally felt the scratching of the bandaged hand on his left shoulder and the pricking of the needle on his right.

"Don't be screwing up the other one" the hunter reminded his friend for what felt like the millionth time.

He liked those demons on his shoulder, and he had made it very clear that he wanted them to stay like that. He trusted Connor and knew that the guy wouldn't screw it up, but he just needed to complain about something, because there was no way he was ever going to make it easy for the blonde.

"Nah, too late. Already made them fairies with magic wands and bikinis."

Daryl snorted and tried to hit his friend, and when the back of his hand connected with bare skin he let out a growl.

"Screw yah. And put a fuckin shirt on. That's fuckin gay."

Connor chuckled even more and ignored the command.

"Fuck ye, it's like 130 fucking degrees in here."

Daryl waited for several minutes until he finally spoke. He had not just come in here because they were done for today. The whole tattooing thing was not only for the mere getting it finished purpose, he also wanted to keep his friend busy and focused on something as he was about to tell him something which he knew Connor wouldn't like. Not at all. He counted the pricks of the needle and lost count at about 247, and when the tip moved over a particularly sensitive spot close to his spine he finally started talking.

"Andrea came back" he muttered and the pricking slowed down.

The voice of his friend gave it away that he was still busy, but there was still interest and even worry in there.

"Really? What'd she say? She stayin here?"

Daryl shook his head and shifted.

"Nope."

He didn't really want to say it, but he'd rather tell Connor about this now instead of causing all sorts of drama tomorrow morning.

He kept quiet for a bit and the Irishman's pricking got more unsteady and lost its rhythm, now that it was obvious that he was waiting for an explanation.

"Well?"

The hunter sighed and looked down at his arms.

"We're gonna go and meet 'em at an old abandoned farm tomorrow. T'discuss business."

The pricking stopped. Connor raised his head to look at the back of his friend's head.  
He chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he contemplated the whole plan, then he started working on the tattoo again and nodded.

"Okay..." he muttered and Daryl shook his head.

"You ain't comin. It's gonna be me, Herschel and Rick."

The pricking stopped once more and Connor looked at his friend in disbelief.

"What?!"

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah. Rick doesn't want you there. And I don't want yah there neither. You need to keep it down and.."

"If ye say I gotta rest one more time then I'm gonna poke yer fucking eye out with this pen, man" Connor growled and let go of his friend.

Daryl turned around to see what was going on.  
The Irishman was standing right in front of him, healthy hand resting on his hip as he looked down at the hunter with an angry frown.

"Are you fucking serious? Yer gonna take a fucking cripple with you instead of me? My hand's just broken and my wounds are cared for, but Herschel, what's he gonna do? He's missing a fucking leg, man? Even if ye didn't take me with ye, why's it gotta be the old man instead? What about yer brother? Glenn? Maggie? And yer people telling me that my fucking plans are suicidal? Next thing yer gonna tell me is that yer meeting this filthy Governor bastard himself!"

Daryl just looked at him instead of giving him an answer, and the Irishman knew what it meant.  
He moved his healthy hand across his face and shook his head.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, Daryl. Do ye really think that those fucks are getting ye there ta talk? Are ye really this stupid?"

The hunter got up as well and put his shirt back on.

"Yeah, well we can try at least, you dumbass. What about your whole talk about how yer getting tired of burying so many people? Well, same over here.  
We can try this at least. There ain't no need for people to die. Rick wants to do it this way, so we're gonna do it."

The Irishman exploded even more.

"Well when I was talking about all those graves I wasn't talking about those evil motherfuckers. Damn right they deserve ta die! And damn right there need to be more graves fer people like him. Have some fucking balls fer once and stop being Rick's lapdog! This is some serious shit here!"

And Daryl had enough as well.

"We ain't like you, alright? We don't just go anywhere and start blasting people's heads off. Which is exactly the reason why we ain't taking you with us. Same thing with Glenn and Merle. Y'all people are the stupid ones. Yer the ones that ain't thinking. Leave it to us three, we got it covered. We gotta talk this through first. Should he do anything weird I'm gonna shoot him dead before he even gets to pull the trigger" he growled and tried to get inside his bed.

Connor followed him and grabbed him by his shoulder.

"Then take me with ye fer this. You don't want me ta shoot him right away? Fine. But take me with ye as cover. There's no way 'm gonna let ye people go out there on yer own. They could be surrounding ye or plan god knows what kinda shit. I come with you and watch after you people, I promise I won't kill him as soon as I see him. Come on, brother, trust me."

Daryl stopped moving around the bed and looked at his friend, who was grabbing his shoulder so hard that it actually hurt. It was obvious that the whole plan scared the shit out of Connor, which had been the very reason why the hunter had been so reluctant to tell him about it at first. But Rick was right, Connor was a danger to their possible solution and peace. Although he knew that the whole thing was probably really pointless just like his friend said, there was a part of him that really wanted to believe in this sort of less bloody solution.

Even after all these months of killing walkers he still didn't want to be a killer himself, didn't want to kill living people. Although it had been necessary back at Woodbury he had not liked shooting all those people back there, and he certainly didn't want to do the whole war thing ever again. So Connor and Merle needed to stay back, and Rick, Andrea and maybe even Herschel needed to solve the whole thing the diplomatic way. Not with a bullet. No. It was dangerous, but it needed to be done.

"You want me t'trust yah?" he asked and Connor looked at him with a confused frown, because he didn't know what the hunter was aiming at.

He still nodded and Daryl did the same.

"Fine. Then trust _me_ first."

The Irishman snorted and let go of his friend.

"You cannot seriously th.."

"You told me 'bout Boston and how you managed to stay alive on yer own for months. Fine. I know yah can watch your ass. And I certainly didn't lock yah in here because of your stupid shoulder. And 'm telling yah now. Before I met you dumbass I was perfectly fine on my own as well. You survived Boston, I survived Atlanta. I know 'bout your skills and I trust yer instincts and everything, and if we really wanna stay the way we are, then I think it's 'bout time yah start trusting and believin in me for once."

Connor pressed his lips together and looked at his friend. He didn't like this, not at all.  
Especially how Daryl was playing this card right now when he was about to go somewhere dangerous without him to protect his stupid redneck ass.

"So I'm gonna go with Rick'n Herschel. And yah gonna trust _me_ this time" Daryl went on and then climbed up their bed to get some sleep.

* * *

The dream was pretty much the same, except that it was completely different. Once again Connor was all alone, and once again he knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He was at Herschel's farmhouse, it was night, there was fire, but when he looked down on his left arm there was no blood, no wound, no nothing.   
  
He was completely fine. Except that nothing was fine. Once again there were the terrible screams and he could hear how his name was being repeated over and over again, so he started running and yelling as well, but as soon as he reached the corner he had to realize that he was too late.

Again.

This time neither a walker nor his dead brother was waiting for him. No, this time it was Daryl who was standing there, all bloody, battered, and most of all: dead. Or more like, undead. He could see the Governor standing there right in front of him, and he was laughing and laughing about how stupid they all were, to really believe he was willing to talk.  
  
And this time he wasn't shoving some random walker but Daryl at him, to make him bite him, to see what was going to happen to him with his immunity. All Connor could see was the blood, the dead eyes, and this time it didn't remind him of Murphy, didn't hurt because he had to think about his brother's death. No. It hurt because it was _Daryl_.

He opened his eyes with a loud gasp and startled, both his hands clenched to a tight fist. A sharp pain shot through his broken hand as he realized that he was straining it too much. The Irishman stared at the bottom of the bed above him and tried to calm down. He knew that Daryl had asked him to trust him. Problem was that he couldn't fucking do it.

He just couldn't.

Connor took a deep breath and then got up. He rubbed his face with his healthy hand and then stood up to head for his bag so he could get a smoke. He lit it and then leaned against the wall, and for a while he just watched his friend sleep in the top bed. He knew he had promised, and he really wanted to let Daryl know that he trusted him. Of course he did. Their friendship meant really much to him, because he actually had to admit that he had never been that close to an other person before. Apart from Murphy, of course.

The blonde liked how their relationship had blossomed over the past couple of months, and he didn't want to risk that now. He really didn't want to stab Daryl in the back, and he just knew that this was their next step right here. If they pulled this through, if he let the hunter pass and do his thing without questioning it then there was even more trust going on between them, and it would make their friendship even tighter. _But could he really do this? And risk Daryl's life over that?_

He blew out some smoke and shook his head.

It wasn't like he didn't trust Rick and Hershel. He knew they were going to look after Daryl just like his friend was going to look after himself. But much in contrast to Merle Dixon his brother instincts were far more present, far more demanding, and they made him far more paranoid. Especially after what had happened to Murphy. Things were going to take a very bad turn if he wasn't there with him. He just knew it. He had bad dreams all the time, but he also remembered the other nightmares he'd had before. Weeks before Murphy had died. He'd dreamt about it and then it had happened. _So what if it was going to happen now, too? How the fuck was he supposed to let Daryl go?_

 _He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it_ , he repeated in his head, over and over again. Just then Daryl opened his eyes and looked at him, poncho pulled up to his nose and longer black hair shielding his forehead. It was dark and only blue eyes were staring at him,, piercing right through him, watching him just like he was being watched himself.

Connor put the smoke back in his mouth and just stared back, and they didn't even need to say what they were thinking.

_I can't do this, man._

_I know what you're up to. And I won't let yah screw this up._

No one said anything, they were just there, glaring at each other, lost in thoughts.

* * *

This was the second time in a row that the rattling of keys woke Connor up. Once again he found himself locked in their cell and glared at Daryl, who was standing on the other side of the door. The hunter was wearing his leather jacket and held on to his new crossbow, ready to leave. Connor stared back at his friend and didn't even waste another second on actually getting up and trying to fight. He was just staring his friend down and shook his head with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Ye can't keep me locked in here ferever, man" he muttered and Daryl pressed his lips together.

He didn't like the whole thing either. He didn't want to leave on his own, but this was the only way to keep everyone safe for now. Especially the Irishman.

"It's for your best" he said for what felt like the millionth time.

Connor finally got up and headed for the bars as Daryl grabbed his crossbow and was about to leave.

"Hey" the Irishman called after him and the hunter rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"I told yah, yer just gonna screw this all up and make..."

"Nah. Just. Watch yer ass, alright?" the blonde demanded and Daryl just looked at him.

Both men looked at each other for a while, then Connor pointed his tattooed finger at his friend.

"Be careful. I'm gonna fucking kill ye if you get yer ass killed out there."

Daryl was actually surprised by the fact that his friend wasn't putting up a fight this time. He looked in his piercing eyes and tried to make out what the guy was really thinking, but he really couldn't read him. Maybe Connor was honest about the whole thing.

_Fine. Then trust me first._

Maybe he really meant it. Maybe this really was Connor listening to him, trusting him after all these months of being together. And maybe this was his friend finally seeing him as Daryl, as a person of his own, a person he didn't need to motherhen as much as his brother, a person he would rather trust than look after. Maybe this really was the part where the Irishman was actually acting like an adult about the whole thing. The hunter smirked and nudged the bars, as if to nudge his friend's shoulder.

"Carol and the others got the keys 'n case of emergencies" he informed the blonde and then turned around to leave, because he also needed to talk to Merle before leaving.

"See yah later" he muttered and soon disappeared.

* * *

As soon as Daryl had left the cell block Connor completely lost his cool. He had faked everything. Of course he had. He knew that there was no point in arguing with Daryl over this, because no matter what he said and did, Rick and his friend didn't want him to come. No matter what. And this was probably a good thing, considering that he had plans of his own now. He knew where the Governor was going to be in a couple of hours. He had his guns with him, his knife...

He had a plan.

The Irishman grabbed the cell door and started shaking it, trying to see if it was locked tight. And of course it was. Daryl really meant it. Connor sighed and let go. He then put both his hands on his hips and inspected the bars a little closer. He had a plan, now he just needed to get out of this godforsaken cell...

* * *

He had been searching the nearby corridors and other passageways when he finally found his brother. Merle had run off on his own again, because even now he didn't really seemed to be interested in becoming a part of the group. Daryl had already told his brother about their plan earlier this morning, and he supposed that the older Dixon was still brooding just as much as Connor over the whole decision. He heard the rattling of something in the laundry room close by, and it didn't really sound like a walker. Maybe it really was his brother, so he finally decided to call out for him.

"Merle! You down here?" he asked and entered the room, hands still holding his new crossbow up high.

The rattling eventually stopped, and when the younger Dixon entered the laundry room he saw that it really was his brother making noise in there.

"Hey little brother!" Merle greeted him and leaned against one of the large washing machines, and it was obvious that he was up to something.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and looked at his brother with a frown.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he came closer, trying to make out what the fuck Merle had screwed up this time.

He couldn't really see anything, but the older Dixon was way too fidgety and strange not to be doing something.  
Not to speak about how he was all alone down here.

"I was just 'bout to holler back atcha" Merle answered him and rubbed his mouth, making it even more obvious that something was wrong.

Daryl knew exactly what was going on, but he decided to play dumb for a bit more. Because he didn't even want to hear the truth.

"Where's your girlfriend?" the older Dixon went on, but his sibling ignored him.

"What you doin down here?" the hunter asked instead, and kept walking.

Merle finally spoke out the truth the younger Dixon had dreaded and didn't really want to hear.  
His brother chuckled and tried to wrap an arm around his shoulder, but Daryl moved out of his reach.

"Just lookin for a little crystal meth, baby bro."

Daryl rolled his eyes at him and then turned away. He still hated the whole topic. Merle seemed to get this immediately, but wouldn't let go.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Shit mess my life up when everything's going so sweet, right? Yeah, well screw yah. If it weren't for yah girlfriend and you then I wouldn't even be searchin this stinking shithole."

Daryl knew exactly that Merle was aiming at the bag and the fact that it was locked with Connor, but there was no way he was giving in.

"Well, there's yah reason why we're keepin it locked away from yah."

Merle chuckled.

"Wouldn't be surprisin me if that mick took that shit himself after everything 've heard 'bout him. Boy's really lost it, ain't he?"

Once again the younger Dixon decided to just ignore all of his brother's tries to get into a fight over Connor.  
He leaned against a wall and folded his arms instead.

"We're gonna leave in 'bout 20 minutes. I need yah to take it easy, alright?"

Merle frowned and kept rubbing his face and arms, withdrawal symptoms showing.

"What, yah taking that leprechaun with you but I ain't allowed to join the party? Ridiculous, look at y'all, mice running right at the trap all blinded by cheesy promises that sugartits made."

Daryl just stared at Merle, discomfort growing inside him with every word his brother spoke. He knew what was coming next because he absolutely dreaded it ever since he had talked to Connor about the whole thing. Once again he didn't want to hear the ugly truth and wanted to believe just like yesterday evening, but that wouldn't keep Merle from talking.

"Yah know the Governor's just bluffing, right? Soon as he sees you people he's gonna start shootin. Make your officer friendly die real slow. And then his people are gonna come over here, throw your heads 'cross the fence and start killin us next. Me, your friends, that mick...But you know that, don't you?"

Daryl just kept staring at his brother and pressed his lips together. But even he couldn't fight the slight nod that broke through.  
Yes, he knew that Merle and Connor were probably right, but he still wanted to help Rick. He owed this group after everything they had done for him.

"Whatever Rick says goes" he tried to counter, but all his efforts were useless. Merle handled the whole situation a whole lot different than Connor. He would not be mad at him or yell at him and shove him and ask him to wake up. The older Dixon forced him to wake up and listen by just laughing at his younger Dixon.

"Man" he muttered and shook his head.

"Do you even possess a pair of balls, little brother? Are they even attached? I mean even if they are, they belong to you?"

_Are ye really this stupid? Have some fucking balls fer once and stop being Rick's lapdog!_

Daryl turned around with a snort because he did no longer want to look at his brother. His and Connor's whole talk was ridiculous and awkward. And that not just because of their choice of words, but also because it embarrassed Daryl. Because he knew they were both right. This was ridiculous and stupid, but this was the way he worked now, this was how he liked to live now. He didn't want to have to look after people for once. He didn't want to be the voice of reason for once. He wanted to be stupid and naive.

He didn't want to make decisions and tell people what to do. Whether it was him telling Merle to stop taking drugs and live his life or whether it was him telling Connor not to try to kill himself and destroy everything he had left of his brother. No, just for once he wanted to be the person being told to do something, just for once he just wanted to carry out something, a plan, an order, just for once he wanted to be the little kid who was told what to do by a big brother or father figure like Rick. But of course, once again Connor and Merle had to screw that up for him, had to make him feel bad about everything he was doing.

"You used t'call people like that sheep. What happened t'you?" Merle went on and Daryl looked back at him, trying to stand his man for once.

Because for the first time in his life he actually didn't fear his big brother anymore. Merle was his brother, that was true, and he loved him, but Merle wasn't his big brother anymore, and he didn't have any sort of authority. It was just Merle, his flesh and blood, who had screwed up his entire life and did not deserve to be talking to him like that now.

"I made friends" he defended himself.

Merle snorted loudly and shook his head, but Daryl kept going.

"People who don't make me feel like crap. People who like me. And appreciate me. People who need me."

The older Dixon would not listen to him.

"Friends."

He huffed and shook his head.

"You need t'grow up. Things are different now. There ain't no such things as friends, little D."

Daryl looked down but his brother kept watching him.

"Remember how things were back at Atlanta, hm? The looks they were givin yah, how they kept laughin behind your back, called yah some redneck trash? They just used your huntin skills, didn't keep yah around for company."

The younger Dixon snorted and shook his head. Thinking about that still hurt, but he tried to pretend that it had not been like that back then.

"Ain't true" he muttered, his voice lacking confidence and strength already.

Merle chuckled because he saw that he got his younger sibling now.

"Yeah, reckon it was just like that back on your farm, hm? They make yah do their dirty work, I saw yah here. You go and fetch their things like a dog. Pathetic. And the thing with blondie? Your _friend_? He's just using yah. He told me."

Daryl looked up, his lips nothing but a pale thin line.

"Blondie ain't your _friend_ outta the goodness of his heart. Ever notice the fact that yah look just like his own little bro? Hell, I saw the picture. He ain't keepin yah around for no chitchat. Blondie's just chasing a ghost. Keeps yah around or else that guy's just gonna put a bullet t'his own head the way he's already lost his brains. Those people don't keep yah for no friendship bracelets and sleepover parties. They're using yah. We're here t'do their dirty work. Nothing more, Darylena. People do what they gotta do or they die. 's all it's about. Ain't no such thing as ' _friends_ '" the older Dixon rambled and kept stressing and repeating the word _friend_ as if it were the most hilarious thing ever.

It really hurt Daryl now because those were all the things he couldn't stop thinking about himself. Every single day whenever he watched Rick and the others from afar, every single day he had been watching them for over a year. Not to mention how he couldn't stop thinking about everything his brother had just said whenever he was with Connor.   
  
When the Irishman wouldn't shut up about Murphy, whenever it felt like his friend was looking right through him. For just a second he lost his cool and swallowed hard when he felt a lump in his throat. Even after all these months of being without his brother and changing so much it still felt like Merle could read him and get under his skin.

The hunter took a deep breath and then shook his head stubbornly. He tried to think about the past winter, everything good that had happened to him ever since he had been with the group and ever since he had found Connor. No. Merle might be right about one thing: things were different now. But not like he had said.   
  
He _did_ have friends and he _did_ feel better because of them, and he wouldn't let his brother pull him down anymore. His past was done, covered up and healing just like the tattoo on his back was covering the scars and made him heal. He stepped closer to his brother and kept shaking his head, confidence growing with every step he took.

"Can't do things without people anymore, man" he said and Merle just snorted.

His big brother still didn't want to hear anything he had to say, still didn't want to change himself. Once again it was obvious that the older Dixon was very jealous of the group and especially Connor, and it looked like he was trying anything to destroy that bond, to keep the old Daryl with him, because the new stronger and more confident Daryl was a stranger to him.

The hunter was a bit hesitant because he knew his brother and how much he would hate this. But at the same time Merle was just like a year ago, and he knew exactly what to do to make it better for his brother. He didn't want Merle to be jealous and upset by the fact that he wasn't such a big part of his life anymore, so he moved closer and closer with a couple of shaky steps.   
  
His older sibling seemed to be confused but Daryl kept going, and after coming closer and closer the younger Dixon actually reached out for him with a shaky and reluctant hand and then placed it on his brother's shoulder. Connor had always been like this, so physical, so full of brotherly love and caring, and after months of being brainwashed by the Irishman Daryl was actually ready and willing to do the same thing now. Because he knew how much it had helped and changed him for the better. So he carefully placed a hand on Merle's shoulder and looked him directly in the eye, making it clear that this was important to him.

"I just want my brother back" he said, and it felt like his words were echoing through the room over and over again.

He let go of the older Dixon when he noticed how surprised and even shocked he was.

"Get out of here, man" Merle gasped, and for a minute he actually couldn't hide the emotion that crossed his face and voice.

The older Dixon turned around with an angry headshake, and Daryl was a bit disappointed by his brother's reaction.

"They really turn you into a sissy in here, didn't they? Disgusting" Merle growled and resumed his search for drugs, and this time he moved things even louder and more violently than before. Daryl watched him for a second longer, then he looked down with a gentle and disappointed sigh.

"'ll be back in a couple 'a hours" he murmured, hoping to get another reaction from his brother.

Maybe another insult, maybe another endless rant about how ridiculous the whole thing was, but Merle wouldn't react at all.

So Daryl really was free to go, and he was surprised that it actually disappointed and hurt him. Neither Merle or Connor would _really_ fight for him to stay with them, no matter what he said and did now. The younger Dixon grabbed his crossbow and finally headed outside, where the other two men were already waiting for him by the car.


	50. An Unlikely Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episodes 13 " _Arrow In The Doorpost_ " and 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

Daryl had been watching them for about five minutes now. The hunter was standing by the wall of the barn, staring through the dirty window, trying not to be seen by anyone. Just looking at the Governor sent a shiver down his spine. Last time he had seen that man he'd had to watch his best friend getting attacked by a walker, and right after that the man had tried to force him into killing his own brother.  
  
That, or getting killed himself. He tried to laugh at their enemy, because the eyepatch made him look like a ridiculous and terrible pirate. Even now he could almost hear Connor laugh at that, but just thinking about his friend made him clench his fists and grit his teeth. No, Connor wouldn't be laughing at the Governor right now. He would be standing right next to him, he would raise his gun and shoot that evil bastard right through the window.   
  
And for a moment Daryl actually considered it as well. They had checked out the whole place first, tracking, searching, looking for any other uninvited guests. Only one car had been there. Just the one. No one else seemed to be with the Governor.

It could be so easy. For just a moment Daryl actually raised his crossbow and took aim. He pointed the sharp tip of his arrow right at the man's head, finger resting on the trigger. He knew that that certainly wouldn't end this war, but it would end the life of one shady bastard. Who was a rapist, who was a sadist. He finally understood Connor as he was actually seeing the Governor right now. In person. Breathing. Alive.  
  
Daryl gritted his teeth even more to a point where it actually hurt. The struggle seemed to be going on forever, but when Rick started talking with the man and they both sat down he just couldn't do it. A loud gasp left his mouth, because he had been holding his breath for a whole bunch of seconds because of the tension. He lowered his crossbow and shook his head.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't just murder a man in cold blood. Without any second thoughts. Yes, it was necessary, yes that man deserved to die, but not like this. He wasn't like that. He had never told Connor, but even back at the farm when he'd been about to kill Randall he secretly hadn't been so determined as he'd made his friend think. Even back then he'd had doubts. And maybe that made him feel a bit ashamed of himself.   
  
He wasn't Murphy MacManus, no matter how much he looked like that dead bastard. No. He wasn't like his friend's brother in that regard, and maybe he was a bit jealous of in that regard. But then he remembered the conversation he'd had with Rick and Herschel before they had left. The hunter had told them more about Connor's ideas, his plans, and all three of them had come to the conclusion that this was not how they worked.

It wasn't like they didn't want to kill people at all. Daryl included. It was just that they didn't want to if they could avoid it. And this talk going on in there right now, this was their way of handling things. They were good people. Just killing that bastard wouldn't make them any better than him and his Woodbury gang. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and walked away from the window to get back to Hershel and the car.  
  
He trusted Rick's instincts and abilities to protect himself, and truth was that he didn't really want to see and hear them talk. But he still couldn't fight that feeling of unease, because it was strange that the Governor was all on his own. Without any backup, without any people protecting his ass or just waiting to kill them in a hail of bullets. He wouldn't stop looking around as he saw Herschel come closer with the Hyundai.

"He's already in there. Sat down with Rick" he informed the old man and had a look inside the car to see if everything was alright.  
Herschel looked worried as well.

"I don't see any cars" he noticed and Daryl nodded. He'd been thinking the same just a second ago.

"Yeah, it don't feel right. Keep it running" he ordered and Herschel nodded.

Just then they heard the loud roaring of a car engine, coming from somewhere right.  
Daryl looked up and raised his crossbow, ready to shoot any intruder who tried to shoot at them first.

One of Woodbury's large offroad trucks with its massive headlights and bumper bar was heading right for them, engine roaring like an angry animal. Daryl tried to keep his crossbow steady and aimed right at them, although it would be very easy for them to just run him over. He stood his ground and the car came to a halt in front of him. Daryl widened his eyes when he recognized two of the people who stepped out of the vehicle.   
  
Andrea was there, and he knew that he didn't really need to worry about her. Then there was one guy he recognized from the area but didn't really have a clue who he was. Those two people weren't even important. Who made his blood boil was the man that got out of back of the car, band-aid on his swollen nose, classes slightly crooked, and eyes just widened as much.

"The hell's he doing here?!" Daryl spat as he recognized the man, the doctor or professor or whatever he was, who had done good knows what kind of fucked up experiments to Connor when he had been bit back at Woodbury. He remembered the man lying there on the ground back that night when he had almost lost his friend, and he remembered what the Irishman had told him.

 _They'd tied me to that bed. Stuck needles in my arms and god knows where. I don't know. They'd taken blood samples. Stitched me back together. Poked the old bite and the new one with all sortsa wacky shit._ _They left me alone in tha room, and I broke my hand ta get outta there._

Part of him wanted that man to suffer for that, and once again he actually considered the trigger. At the same time he was just glad that Connor wasn't there, because he was pretty sure that the blonde would _really_ kill him. But then he remembered the plan he had told Connor about just two days ago.

_Think 'bout it. He could help you. And make us understand. Herschel's good enough for small injuries and all that, but he ain't got the knowledge t'do anything with your crap. But four eyes, he might be able to do something._ _Maybe even find a cure or something._

"It's you" the guy with the glasses observed in surprise, and Andrea used the time to approach the hunter and pressed his crossbow down.

"It's okay. It's just Milton. He won't harm anybody. We're here to settle this" she tried to calm the hunter down, but Daryl wouldn't stop glaring at Milton.

"Then why's your boyfriend already in there?" the younger Dixon growled and Andrea widened her eyes.

"He's here?"

"Yup" Daryl said and wouldn't lower his crossbow. Andrea let out an annoyed sigh and headed for the barn Rick and the Governor where talking in.

It was quiet for a moment, as the other Woodburian leaned against the car and just stared at Daryl intently.  
Milton seemed a bit scared of the crossbow, but at the same time seemed rather curious and even excited about something.

"It's..it's you! I'm sorry but, did..did your friend make it?"

Daryl gritted his teeth.

"Yah mean the one yah cuffed to that bed and tortured in Frankenstein's laboratory? Yeah, sorry t'disappoint you, but he's doin fine."

"Yeah, what about the people y'all killed back at our town, sunshine?" the other man asked and Daryl pointed his crossbow at him instead.

"And you better watch your mouth, _sunshine._ T'hell are you? His butler?"

The man just chuckled and smirked. He seemed far more relaxed then most men Daryl had met over the past couple of months. And the hunter didn't like this at all. It was like he was keeping something secret, like he knew about something they didn't. Once again the hunter felt like he was being watched from all sides, and that made him even more nervous, even more angry.

"Look, if you and I are gonna be out here pointing guns at each other all day, do me a favor. Shut your mouth" the Woodburian said and Daryl approached him with clenched teeth. He let go of his crossbow with one hand and was ready to at least punch the man. They were only inches apart and the man wouldn't stop smirking to himself. He even seemed a little interested in Daryl, which weirded the hunter even more out. The tension was rising between them, ready to snap at any second, but then Herschel spoke up.

"We don't need this. If all goes south in there, we'll be at each other's throats soon enough" he and Daryl wouldn't stop staring at the man.

When Milton spoke up he got distracted though, and the guard from Woodbury used the time to withdraw.

"So, about your friend..is he with you? I need to talk to him."

Daryl frowned and eyed the man head to toe. Milton was holding on to a notepad with both his hands and it still looked like he really needed to get something off his chest. Daryl glared at the other man once more, and then he finally relaxed his arms and lowered his crossbow, leaving it hanging down his right arm.

"Why?" he growled and started biting his lower lip. Milton kept approaching him and started turning pages in his notepad.

"I've..well most of the phials where destroyed but I had two left. For the past couple of days I kept experimenting with his blood, and I've found some remarkable.."

"Hey, keep your distance four-eyes, will yah?" Daryl growled and the man abruptly stopped. He looked at Daryl and nodded.

"Okay, okay. But, is he here? If I could just talk to him then maybe.."

"He ain't here" Daryl muttered and eyed the man stubbornly.

Milton looked very disappointed.  
He nodded and took another look at his notepad, and when he was just about to turn around and head back for the car the hunter called after him.

"Tell me 'bout it then. What did yah find?"

* * *

Connor was actually really worried about his bitten shoulder by now. It wasn't like it was anywhere near as bad as last time he had been bit, but this was also pretty nasty. He could feel and see that there was a serious infection going on now. This was day three, and it seemed to just get worse now that he wasn't really doing anything ever since the group had locked him up.  
  
He was supposed to rest, but it was the resting that made it worse, like all the not doing anything locked up his muscles and made the wound even more angry, to a point where it was actually starting to suppurate, no matter how many times he took antibiotics and no matter how many times he cleaned it. It was kind of logical, considering that the wound was large and had been caused by a dead rotting person with rotting teeth that'd still been stuffed with other pieces of rotting flesh.

Just thinking about it nearly made him puke. He needed to get the fuck out of this cell. He needed to move, he needed fresh air, he needed to run and leave and follow Daryl. The Irishman thought that it was incredibly stupid to just be sitting here like a sissy, tending his stupid wounds instead of looking after his best friend, who was risking his ass out there. He wanted to end it, he wanted to kill the Governor because this whole thing was too perfect. He knew where that fucked up psycho was right now, so all he needed to do was get out of this cell, right?   
  
Connor grabbed the cell door with his healthy hand and ignored the sharp pain that built up in his shoulder as he kept pulling and pulling, getting angrier with every single time he failed to open it. Because this was iron in his way, and there was no one out there to help him get out this time. He was all alone, and he was locked. Right then he heard some talking coming from the dining hall next door, and it sounded like he wasn't the only one being pissed because of the whole Daryl leaving thing.

"What we should be doin' is loadin some of this firepower in a truck and pay a visit to the Governor. We know where he is right now" he heard Merle's voice echo through the entire block, which made him snort.

It felt like the older Dixon was speaking out everything he was thinking right now, and although he really hated the guy he kind of had to agree with that bastard there. Connor tried to have a look outside his cell but couldn't really see what was going on.

"You suggest that we just go in and kill him?"

The Irishman automatically nodded, as if he was part of the conversation. Once again Merle seemed to finally agree with Connor, and after the talk yesterday the Irishman was actually surprised to realize that. Maybe this was the part where they could finally start working together? Daryl was his friend, that was true, but he was also a damn fine leverage to get the older Dixon to work with him. If only he could draw attention to himself...

"Yeah I am" Merle answered Glenn and Connor froze again, because he didn't want to miss anything.

"We told Rick and Daryl that we'd stay put" he heard Michonne say and shook his head with an annoyed growl.

"Fuck that, lady. Fella's right, man" the Irishman muttered and tried to use his rosary on the bars to make some sort of noise.

He didn't want to yell because this was too obvious, and he didn't want everyone to come in here.  
 _He just needed that stupid redneck for Christ's fucking sakes._  
  
"Yeah I've changed my mind, sweetheart. Not bein at the sideline with my brother out there ain't sittin right with me" Merle said and made Connor freeze again.

He couldn't believe that he was actually really hearing that. Maybe this really was his lucky day. Maybe this was the day he could kill the Governor and end this whole kindergarten bullshit. He needed to get out, he needed to find Daryl, he needed to get to this freak, and maybe this time he had actually found an ally rather than someone who would just lock him up and keep him out of this whole thing _. It was an unlikely alliance, but it needed to fucking happen!_ Connor started rattling again and got louder. The talking next door wouldn't stop.

"The three of them are right in the middle of it. No idea we're coming, they could get taken hostage or killed. Thousand things could go wrong" he heard Glenn say and finally had enough.

"That's exactly te fucking point!" Connor yelled as loud as he could, knowing that he would be heard.  
  
Now the anger and fear had fully taken control of his body. Daryl was all alone out there and so close to all these psychos that had tortured the both of them just a couple of days ago. He couldn't understand how Glenn and the others really could be so stupid, didn't get how they kept him locked up but not Merle, how they wouldn't go and help their people and probably save their lives. Although he couldn't see it he just knew that Daryl's brother was nodding in approval right now.

"Thousand things _will_ go wrong. Listen to blondie, Chinaman."

It was quiet for a while until Glenn finally answered.

"It's not the right move. Not now! Can't take the risk of putting them in the crossfire. That's my decision and it's final."

Several footsteps could be heard after that, and with a final loud bang of a door there was silence. Connor listened up for a couple of minutes until he was sure that there was still someone with him inside this cell block. He moved closer to the bars again and tried to make out the person, but the angle wasn't right, so there was no other option but call out.

"Merle?" he asked carefully, and after waiting for a bit he heard the reassuring answer.

"Right here, blondie" he heard the angry growl, and for the first time he was actually glad to hear that voice, no matter how much he hated it.

"Move yer ass over her fer a second, will ye?"

He didn't expect the older Dixon to do it without insulting him somehow first, but much to his surprise Merle entered the block right away. He looked different today, there was no cocky smile on his face and he didn't seem so dangerous, for the first time he actually looked worried, even a little upset. As soon as the Irishman saw his friend's brother he nodded and looked him straight in the eye.

"Do ye even know where they're at?"

Merle glared at him and shook his head after a moment.

"Was plannin on beating that outta the Chinese kid. Besides, ain't gonna be so hard t'find a little hut right in the middle of it all."

Connor leaned against the cell door and shook his head.

"No need ta be searching around. I know te location."

Merle raised an eyebrow.

"Lemme out and we go out there, kill te Governor and get yer brother back" the blonde went on and the older Dixon snorted and shook his head.

"I don't need no help. Besides, as soon as we're done with the Governor, 'm gonna drag sweet Darylena with me and leave for good. Y'all people are just too stupid, and ain't no way 'm gonna let y'all kill my baby brother over this" the older Dixon answered and was about to leave, but then Connor already called after him again.

"Ye know he ain't gonna leave. Especially with me still bein right here."

Merle froze and the Irishman could actually see how tense the redneck's shoulders got because of that remark.

"He likes it here. With those people. And even if he was gonna leave with ye, ain't no way he's gonna leave without me."

Merle still wouldn't say anything, but turned around to stare at the Irishman.

"He wants both of us just like you and me want him. Safe and sound. And we both want that evil fuck dead. So, I know te location, you know the area, you got te key. Yer Daryl's brother, I'm his friend. We're the only two who get te situation and who all those people out there try ta keep outta their business. So why not work against them as well? Why not work tagether? Let's make a deal. You do that fer me, I'll keep my distance ta Daryl. I'll stop calling him brother and I won't put a hand on him anymore. Deal?"


	51. Augusta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: I'm a media engineering student, not a med student or doctor. I don't know shit about cells and immunity and what not :D
> 
>  **setting:** episodes 13 " _Arrow In The Doorpost_ " and 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

Daryl and Milton were walking a bit further away from the other man from Woodbury and Herschel, simply because the hunter thought it was none of their business. They were heading for one of the houses that were close by, and while Daryl kept his crossbow within reach in case either Milton or some walkers did something funny, the man with the glasses was busy turning pages in his notepad.

"So, start talking then, four eyes" Daryl muttered and tried to have a look inside the notepad, but truth was he didn't understand shit anyway.

"How is your friend right now?" Milton asked and looked up. Daryl shrugged.

"Alright, I guess. Maybe bit sick, but been a whole lot worse last time he got bit."

"What kind of symptoms is he showing?" the other man went on as he started scribbling in his notepad.

The hunter growled and glared at the man.

"How the hell 'm I supposed t'know? Look like a doctor to you?" he snapped and then shook his head.

"I don't know. He passed out two days ago. Bit paler, I guess. And his shoulder's all angry and fucked up. But the guy can still talk, walk and yell 'bout, so he's doin just fine" the younger Dixon kept reassuring Milton, although truth was that he kept telling himself that rather than the other man. He was worried ever since Connor had passed out, and it made him even more nervous considering how the Irishman hadn't really slept for the past couple of days and how he was back at the prison without Daryl watching his ass right now.

"It can still lead to a serious Septicemia. You need doctors to treat this sort of infection. It can still kill him" Milton said, and that didn't exactly make the feeling in Daryl's gut go away.

He snorted and shrugged nervously.

"Didn't kill him last time, ain't gonna kill him this time. Been too long now anyway. Gonna be fine and that's it."

Milton suddenly stopped walking and looked at Daryl.

"No. You need to understand. Your friend has very special blood. And you shouldn't take that or his life for granted. He needs medical assistance, he needs to be taken to a laboratory, to specialists. Last time they found someone with this sort of immunity has been two weeks after the initial outbreak. And that was in San Francisco. And now I have found some remarkable things in your friend's blood, but I've got neither the equipment nor the knowledge to do much with it."

Daryl stopped walking as well and looked at the man with an angry frown.

"Ain't much use without people anyway, is it? What do you want me t'do 'bout it? Go and buy yah a lego medical brickset over at Wallmart instead?"

"No, I'm talking about a collaboration here. As soon as your leader and Phillip sort things out Woodbury could arrange an escort team. There's a temporary medical research center in Augusta. Next to the CDC they've come furthest with their research on the infection. This is our chance to find a cure. I tested your friend's blood on a couple of samples with..."

Daryl let out a loud and angry chuckle and shook his head.

"An escort team? Last time we met yah people you tortured four of us and killed another two. And now yah want us to work together? Sorry, but the leprechaun ain't for sale. And neither is he some sorta lab monkey for y'all quacks. Should feel lucky I ain't gonna put an arrow between your eyes for what yah did to him last time."

Milton pressed his lips together and held on to his notepad.  
He then approached Daryl, despite the hunters obvious discomfort and readiness to shoot him should he come any closer.   
He opened his notepad and showed the younger Dixon some notes and drawings.

"Just look at this. This is the unknown virus. Or bacteria, or microbe. We still don't know what it is exactly. But whatever it is. Look at it.  
See the sharp spikes and their characteristic shape?"

Daryl took a closer look at the scribblings with a confused frown. The thing Milton had drawn what looked like one of those Christmas stars or a snowflake.

"This is the thing that makes all the dead walk?"

Milton nodded.

"Yes. There's two types of infections going on in our bodies when the undead attack us. There's the one that we all already carry, the new one that is dormant and that will make us walk and attack after we die. Then there's the other infection, it resembles Septicemia. When they bite you, there's over 500 different sorts of bacteria entering the wound. Those that are in their mouth, between their teeth. That sort of infection kills you. That brings the fever, the shock, the heart attacks, the nausea. And when we're dying this..."

He pointed at his sketch again.

"...enters the brain. It takes over, it replicates, it causes the brain to.."

"Yeah yeah, skip all that talk. Already heard that and I ain't gonna understand shit anyway. So why don't it kill him?" Daryl growled and Milton turned the page.

"This is what I found in your friend's blood" he explained and showed the hunter another sketch of the same thing he had seen on the previous page, but this time there were a whole bunch of strange Y's and T's all around it.

"Those are antibodies and t-killer cells."

Daryl frowned even more.

"Don't everyone got things like those? Heard 'bout that before."

Milton nodded.

"Yes. They're part of our immune system, but these ones here are very special. Because they actually fit the virus or whatever it is, and that perfectly. They've got a very special structure that makes them compatible with it. They neutralize it and make it impossible for the disease to spread, expand and replicate inside the brain."

Daryl started chewing on his lower lip as he stared at Milton's scribblings. It was kind of complicated, but he actually understood what the man was aiming at.

"So that stuff inside him's like a natural hand brake or something? It makes that like... stop? But why's he gotta have it and no one else? What 'bout all the others? I mean he's human just like us, right?"

Milton adjusted his glasses and scratched his nose with his pen.

"Yes, but there are many reasons and factors why he could have developed this sort of antibodies. He could've been infected with something similar to this infection, just a slight scratch could've made his body fight something similar, or it could just be a natural immunity to it. No matter what it is, he's got something inside him that stops the whole process. Or... or slows it down, but we've definitively got something here. I mean actual unintended field tests confirm that. He got bitten twice and he is still alive. He has got a strong immune system and a far higher amount of t-killer cells to fight the infection that normally kills people, and his body neutralizes the virus or bacteria that invade the brain completely."

Daryl started shifting from his left leg to his right because he was suddenly incredibly nervous. It was too much information at once and he had a hard time keeping up with the whole scientific talk, but he believed to understand some of it. And right now he actually regretted not having Connor with him, not only because it was all about his friend but also because he was pretty sure that the blonde was a whole lot smarter than him, and that he could actually understand what was being explained right now.

"So yah basically sayin that he's got stuff in him that'll keep people from dyin after they got bit and that will stop those dead freaks and make them normal again?"

Milton shook his head and closed his notepad with a sigh.

"Unfortunately not. I don't think we'll be able to produce enough substance to neutralize the infection inside the walkers' brains. And even if we did, they would just drop dead. They're dead people, with or without the infection. But yes, you could be right about the finding a drug that might stop the Septicemia in the first place. Like a new sort of antibiotics for people with bites. And maybe we could use it to vaccinate people and that when they die they will stay dead rather than come back to life. Meaning there could be no new walkers in the future."

Daryl just stared at the man. Of course it could be some good news, but he was still sceptical and somehow couldn't believe it. There couldn't be a cure to all this. Not now. Not after one year of all that chaos. Not with all the order gone to shit. It was so incredibly stupid to be thinking that things COULD get better some day. He was too used to their new world by now. And there just HAD to be a downside to this.

"But that stuff's still inside him?"

Milton nodded.

"Yes. And it will be for a while. It takes his body some time to get rid of the virus and clean..house so to say."

Daryl bit his lip and sighed.

"Would that also explain why they ain't attacking him? Cos their stuff is inside him? And they attacked him after a couple of months cos the virus got destroyed after a while?"

Milton shrugged.

"I don't really understand the walkers and their behavior yet. But it could be. And I know one thing for sure, the virus might be neutralized and he might never turn, but the other bacteria in his bite wound can still kill him" he said and suddenly leaned further in to look Daryl right in the eye.

"You need to make sure he gets through this infection. You need to make sure he stays alive. This is our only hope" Milton said and looked over Daryl's shoulder to see how the others were doing. Rick and the Governor were obviously still talking, and the other member of the Woodbury gang and Herschel were just standing by their cars.

"I know Phillip, but I don't know your people. Should all things go south then leave. Leave this prison. Leave your group and Woodbury behind. Phillip isn't after you or your friend. He's after that prison, your leader. Michonne. And he's going to attack and follow you everywhere if they don't come to terms today. If they declare war: then take your friend and leave. Go as far away from here as possible. Stay safe and get him to Augusta. This could be our last chance to safe what's left of humanity."

* * *

Connor and Merle were walking down an empty road through a small village close to their prison. They had not taken a car since this would have been too loud and too obvious. They didn't want anyone to know that they had snuck out of the prison, which was why they had used the hole in the wall on the other side of the facility to get away. It was very strange for the both of them to be working together, and especially Connor couldn't believe it.

"Can't believe ye fuckin scumbag actually let me outta there" the Irishman muttered and lit a cigarette. Merle chuckled and kept walking.

"Figured that'd be the only way t'lose you pansy on the road without all those retards back at the prison growing suspicious.   
Tell 'em it was walkers when they attacked us."

Connor snorted and took a long drag on his cigarette.

"Aye, except that people won't believe ye cos walkers don't go after me, smartass."

Merle kept chuckling to himself and shook his head. They didn't talk for a while until the redneck broke the silence again.

"So it's all true 'bout the bites and the immunity. Yah really are some sorta special snowflake."

Connor grabbed his cigarette with his healthy hand and shrugged.

"Looks like it" he muttered as he blew out some smoke.

"Yah know that's the only reason they care 'boutcha? Including Daryl? Hell, they're just keeping yah around for that just like they're keepin me and my brother around t'do their dirty work."

The Irishman snorted and looked at the older Dixon with a sceptical frown.

"And yer think that kinda low selfesteem and brainwashing bullshit's gonna work on me? Sorry, buddy. I think I know those people and yer brother better than you by now. If there's one person people use fer their perposes and on who they all look down and treat like te piece of shit that he is, then it's gotta be you."

Merle glared at the blonde.

"Don'tcha dare saying yah know my baby brother better than me, leprechaun. Or I might actually kill yah and make it look like an accident."

Connor chuckled and kept walking.

"I think we both know that they're gonna blame ye fer it no matter if it's an accident or not.  
Especially Daryl will blame ye, considering he knows best how much we hate each other, don't ye think?"

Merle was unusually quiet after that. Connor had been looking forward to a fight with the man now that they were not being watched or held back. He also knew that he couldn't just kill Merle either because Daryl would hate him just as much. Anyway, he kind of felt like giving the older Dixon a proper, _proper_ beating to punish him for everything he had done wrong with Daryl, now that no one was looking, but he figured that he needed the man alive to make his plan with the Governor work. So instead of actually fighting him with fists Connor just kept using psychological warfare.

"And ye also know that Daryl just cares about ye cos yer blood, aye? He told me all sortsa things. He kept repeating that yer his brother but there were all sortsa "but"s going on after that. He said that he always thought yer a piece'a shit. And that he was getting tired of all te shit ye did wrong with yer life, all the drugs and everything. He even compared ye to yer father."

Much to Connor's surprise Merle actually kept his cool and even started chuckling.

"Oh and did sweet Darylena tell yah about all the things she did wrong? He tell yah that he was just as high on shrooms and shit for a whole buncha years? Did he tell yah about how we wanted t'rob your dear friend Rick's camp blind before they cuffed me t'that rooftop and dragged him with 'em? Bet he didn't tell yah about not so sweet Daryl."

Connor kicked a stone and rubbed his aching shoulder with a shrug.

"Ever notice how he completely changed and became someone better ever since ye piece'a shit stopped having an influence on him and I came inta his life? Face it, yer the one people don't care about and never will. Me? They're all gonna come looking fer me sooner or later. And I already saw 'em mourn when they thought I was dead. Do ye think they're gonna do the same when ye die? I don't think so. Glenn, Maggie, Rick. They're all gonna cheer as soon as they find out yer dead. And do ye know what Daryl told me tha night I got bit? He said that I'm the brother he's always wanted t'have instead of you."

Breathy laughter escaped Merle's mouth and he stopped walking.

"Y'know, yah think y'know everything about me, 'bout Daryl. And yah think you're the shit, huh? Uber-bro, Darylena's knight in shining armour" he raised his voice and Connor stopped walking to look at the man behind him, and once again there was nothing but disgust written all over his face. Merle raised both his arms and glared at the Irishman.

"And here I am now. Ain't I? I might've done some shit in my life, and I sure ain't proud of that, but if there's one thing 'm proud of, then it's gotta be the fact that without me little D wouldn't even be here, y'know that? Huh? He tell you 'bout those fags back in school that I beat the shit out of when they shoved his head into the crapper every day? He tell you 'bout Atlanta? The stadium when shit hit the fan? The chopper? Kid would've went down with it that night if I hadn't told him t'get his ass outta there. I beat up and tortured a shitton of people in my life, and killed 16 men since all this went down. Living men. But my brother ain't ever gonna be one of them. Can yah say the same thing 'bout your bro, mick?"

Connor just glared at Merle, but decided to not get into a fight over that now. It still hurt to hear people mention how he had lost Murphy and how he had let him turn and shot him himself, but he did not dare showing any sort of weakness anymore, especially not right now that he was with Merle and no one was there to stop him from killing the man for that remark. The older Dixon kept going, now that he had finally lost his cool.

"So maybe Daryl don't want me around and keeps talkin shit 'bout me behind my back like y'all do. Maybe he prefers all y'all asskissers and pussies, and maybe you mick are better for him than me, but - _I_ _'m-_ here for my brother, and I _wanna_ be with my brother after I spent all winter lookin for him. Yesterday yah asked me if I would be willing t'die for Daryl. Well guess what I'm doin now, paddy. He wants to be with y'all people, and he wants to be in this prison. This little suicide mission, I'm gonna make sure it'll keep this place standing for 'im."

The older Dixon started walking again and walked past dumfounded Connor with an angry growl.

"And if I pull it off, maybe all is forgiven."


	52. Motel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **setting** : episodes 13 " _Arrow In The Doorpost_ " and 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

Daryl and Milton went back to the cars after their talk to wait for an outcome. It was taking Rick and the Governor way longer than they would have thought, and Andrea had come out of the barn by now and was waiting just like them. Daryl didn't like the waiting at all. It made him nervous because he still feared an attack, but it also made him nervous because he didn't want to leave Merle and Connor alone for too long.  
  
He figured that they would be using the opportunity to fight now that he wasn't there, and although he trusted the two to not kill each other he was still having a strange feeling in his gut. And he especially couldn't fight that anymore now that he had heard all the things about the infection and immunity. He seriously wanted to share the new information with his friend as soon as possible.

"It's a good thing they're sitting down. Especially after what happened" Milton said when he noticed how restless Daryl was.  
"They're gonna work it out. Nobody wants another battle."

Daryl snorted when he remembered how things had went down back at Woodbury and the prison.

"Wouldn't exactly call it a battle" he growled.

_More like a slaughter and mindfuck._

"I would call it a battle and I did. I...recorded it" Milton said and showed the others his notepad, making Daryl grit his teeth.

He still didn't want anyone to know about Connor.

"Somebody's gotta keep record of what we've gone through. It'll be part of our history."

Herschel got up and looked at the man as well.

"That makes sense" he said and Daryl snorted once more.

He thought that it was absolutely retarded and pointless.  
 _Who was going to read about it anyway? At least 97 % of the population had to be dead. Or maybe even more._

"I've...got dozens of interviews- and with my latest test results I could..." Milton said and approached Herschel, but right then Daryl stepped forward to stop him.

"Hey, there ain't no test results alright, four-eyes?" he growled, but before he even got the chance to really shut the man up they all heard the sudden loud growling of walkers that were heading for their location.

Everyone grabbed their weapons. Daryl his crossbow, the guy from Woodbury (who's name was apparently Martinez) his baseball bat and Andrea her small pocket knife, and together they headed for the maybe five to ten walkers that were staggering in their direction. Some of the walkers were wavering about between the massive silos of the farm, and after taking aim for a couple of seconds and feeling how Martinez was close behind him Daryl decided to withdraw again.  
  
There was no way he was gonna be busy killing walkers with the enemy right behind him. He didn't know how the guy was going to react, and he didn't exactly want his head to be bashed in just because he wasn't paying any attention. So Daryl lowered his crossbow and looked at the man, waving about with his arm to signalize that he was going to let him go first.

"After you" he said and glared at the Woodburian who stared back at him in surprise.

"No way. You first" he muttered and pointed at the walkers with his baseball bat.

Both men gave in to an intense stare-down, which only got interrupted by Andrea, who made her way towards the walkers with an annoyed eyeroll.  
She shoved the undead against the silo and stabbed his eye out, making the other two men watch her in surprise.

"Pussy" Martinez said then, which made Daryl look at him.

There was the inner urge inside of him that made him clench his fist and made him feel like he needed to punch the Woodburian, but Martinez was already on his way to kill the next walker. He twirled his baseball bat around and it was obvious that he was showing off.   
  
He smashed the brains of a female walker and splattered blood all over another silo, making him turn around and grin at Daryl like he was extremely pleased with himself. The hunter had to admit that it was a good kill, but it didn't really impress him. He was used to this sort of bullshit, he and Connor had made the whole killing walkers thing a secret competition after all.

Part of the younger Dixon wished that the Irishman was here with him right now, because it sure as hell would've been even more fun to fuck Martinez up and show Woodbury who the kings of walker kills were, but he was all alone now so it was on him to defend their honor. He shrugged and started running so he could get closer to the next bunch of walkers to take better aim at them.  
  
As soon as he had shoot one right in the eye he lowered his crossbow once more to watch what Martinez was doing, and for a moment he secretly counted _256,_ making him 8 walker kills better than Connor. Fucker had managed to make up with all the walkers he had killed back at the prison yard and inside the woods when he had gotten lost, although the hunter suspected that the dumbass was lying to him anyway. And maybe he was lying as well and made up some numbers, but 256 it was, so fuck him.

Martinez was on his way to kill another two walkers, so Daryl thought it was his turn to act. He took aim and hit another one before Martinez got the chance to hit her with his baseball bat, and since the hunter thought that he needed to do something cooler than that he grabbed his knife and took aim. Once again Martinez was about to kill the walker that had been standing behind the one he had just killed, but Daryl wouldn't give him the chance to end the walker's life. He took aim with his knife and threw it, hitting the undead right in the face and killing him.  
  
Maybe Daryl had stolen that move from the Connor after he had seen him do this sort of thing to his brother a couple of days ago, but the move did what it was supposed to do: kill a walker, make him show off, and also making it very clear for Martinez that there was no way he was gonna let him do any sort of bullshit. The other man turned around and looked at him with wide eyes, obviously a bit shocked because the knife that had almost hit him instead of the walker. Daryl just looked back at him with a slight and evil smirk, and in his mind he counted: _258\. Suck it, leprechaun._

Daryl then knelt down to search the corpses for anything useful, only to click his tongue when he felt a familiar package.

"Look what he's got" he said and shoved Martinez the cigarettes. This time he didn't regret that he had locked Connor in their cell back at the prison.

He got up and counted them with a smile. There were eight inside, and there was no way he was going to let the leprechaun have them. He knew that the blonde still had some from their discovery back inside the kitchen, and truth was that he was a bit mad at the Irishman for not really sharing them with him. Bastard had been the one to make him addicted to that shit as well, so he was going to keep them to himself.

 _Ha. Take that,_ he thought and put one in his mouth. He then turned around to look at Martinez, who was still standing there and just watched him. Daryl contemplated things for a bit but then came to the conclusion that this asshole deserved one as well, considering that he had been the one who had killed the walker in the first place. So he offered the man one but Martinez refused.

"Nah, I prefer menthols" he muttered and Daryl snorted.

He and Connor had found menthols once and they absolutely dreaded them.

"Douchebag" he muttered and lit his own, enjoying the feeling of smoke in his lungs and mouth. He kept eyeing Martinez though, because he had to admit that he was kind of curious now. It didn't look like the guy was going to just kill him or attack him any second, and since they still had to wait for an official word he thought that they might as well talk. It had been too long since he had last come across someone who was at least a bit decent, and truth was that he still missed people and simple conversations.

"You army or something?" he asked and Martinez looked at him. He shook his head and looked down at his baseball bat.

"Nah, I just- just hate these things."

Daryl pressed his lips together and nodded quietly.

"Yeah" he muttered and was pretty sure that practically everyone hated those stinking bastards.

Because they meant nothing but trouble, because they were disgusting, because they just kept killing killing killing and that annoyed the crap out of him.

"After what they did...to my wife, kids" Martinez went on and looked away.

Daryl took a drag on his cigarette and sighed.   
_Of course it had to lead to this, it always led to deaths and people getting eaten._

"Sucks" he muttered and looked down as well.

"Thanks" the man opposite him said and it was quiet for a while. They listened to the chirping of the crickets and the creaking of the metal silos.

"You're Merle's brother, aren't you?" Martinez asked after a while and Daryl looked up with a frown.

"Yeah, so?"

The other chuckled and shook his head.

"Nothing. Got the same dumb look on your face. How's that bastard doin?"

Daryl shrugged and blew out some smoke.

"Just fine."

Martinez nodded with a smirk on his face.

"Tough son of a bitch."

Daryl nodded and smirked as well.

"Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."

Silence. Nothing but the blowing of wind and the chirping of animals.

"Is it true 'bout your friend?"

Daryl tensed and avoided Martinez' gaze.  
He took another drag on his cigarette instead and moved around a bit.

"Is what true?" he asked and pretended that he didn't know what the other was talking about.

"That your buddy's immune. The one with the tattoos?"

Daryl just snorted and shook his head.

"Bullshit."

Martinez snorted as well and folded his arms.

"Let me give you some advice, hick" he said and the hunter looked at him.

"They ain't gonna work anything out in there. Sure they'll do their little dance, and tomorrow, next day, they'll give the word" the man said and looked at Daryl with an intense look in his eyes. It was obvious that he didn't like telling the truth, but it also looked like he was going to follow the Governor's orders no matter what.

"I heard Miltie talk about your friend. We ain't gonna be double checking who we're shooting at when we get the signal" Martinez went on and Daryl just kept staring at him.

"So if your friend's really immune...better make sure he ain't in the line of fire. Just between you'n me."

Daryl kept staring at him for a little while longer and then swallowed when he felt a lump in his throat.

"Tomorrow?" he asked after a while and Martinez nodded and swallowed as well.

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

* * *

They had been walking down the road for more than one hour when they finally reached a location with cars. They needed a car because the farm was still a long way away from their prison, and all the other vehicles they had found had been pieces of thrash with flat tires, no fuel or broken engines. Connor and Merle ducked down behind some bushes and eyed their surroundings for a moment. They had found an abandoned motel with a whole bunch of cars waiting for them by the parking lot. Trouble was that there were walkers staggering around the location, which would make it really hard to get one of the cars and make it work.

Neither the Irishman nor Daryl's brother had said a single word ever since their fight over Daryl, but this situation actually required them to talk and work together. Connor eyed the walkers a little while longer and grabbed his Beretta. He really hated that he couldn't use both of his hands, because he'd rather have a gun AND a knife right now, but his broken thumb and wrist made it impossible. It was a disadvantage, but his advantages pretty much canceled it out.

The Irishman was also a bit surprised because all the whispering and talking wasn't too bad today. Considering how many walkers were here and how close he was to them it was kind of astonishing, really. There were only a couple of whispers and they weren't even loud, so the blonde suspected that maybe, _maybe_ he was getting a bit better. His shoulder told him otherwise because it was still throbbing and aching and pulsating like hell, but he'd rather have a serious infection and inflammation than this whole hallucination crap. Connor nudged Merle's arm and pointed at the walkers with his gun.

"'m gonna go and kill all these fucks. Ye wait here fer me ta finish it. After that ye can show off yer scumbag skills and hot-wire one of them cars."

Merle snorted and turned his head to look at Connor with an angry frown.

"Look like I need a babysitter t'you? Besides, you think I'm gonna let yah do that just so I get my ass kicked cos yah bit the dust? No no, blondie. You stay back, let the real man do all the work" the older Dixon grunted and got up, and that so fast that it was impossible for Connor to grab his shirt to hold him back.

"Merle!" the Irishman yelled without really thinking, making it just worse for them. His yell drew the attention of all the walkers to them, making them turn around with exhausted and loud groans and moans. Daryl's brother ran right at them, using the knife on his stump to slaughter them whenever they got too close. The older Dixon wouldn't stop insulting the walkers and laughing at them, and after killing about five of them he turned around with triumphant laughter and grinned at Connor.

"See? This is how yah do it, mick!" he yelled and the blonde MacManus widened his eyes when he saw that there was another walker right behind Merle.

He got to his feet and pulled his gun, aiming it at the undead in one swift motion. Before the older Dixon even got the chance to turn around and kill the undead himself the blonde had already pulled the trigger, blowing out the undead woman's brain with a disgusting splat. Merle turned around to watch her fall, and once again he wouldn't stop hollering and laughing.

"Look at her! And I thought blondes ain't got no brains in their melons!" he yelled and then resumed the killing.

"Just the one, that all yah can do, paddy?" he went on and Connor finally stepped out from behind the bushes, grabbing his knife with an angry growl.

"You wish!" he yelled and started killing all the surrounding walkers. He worked strategically, making his way towards the motel as he kept slicing and cutting. Merle wouldn't slow down either, and pretty soon it became a competition between the two of them. The older Dixon wouldn't stop counting every single kill that he did, enraging Connor even more, making him attack faster and far more brutal than necessary.  
  
The whispering got louder with every fast beat of his heart, and soon he found himself too overwhelmed by all the kills, all the walkers that were dropping dead in front of him. The screaming and shouting got louder with every single death, although there were only about three walkers left to kill. Merle obviously enjoyed the competition and did not seem to notice the fact that the Irishman was weakening. He just kept pushing and pushing.

"Seriously, that all yah got? No wonder your little bro bit the dust!" he yelled as he killed another walker, and that remark was enough to make panting Connor explode.

"Fuck you!" the Irishman yelled as loud as he could and lunged out to kill the last but one walker with a brutal stab to his head.

But he had reached too far back, and just when his arm was flying through the air he could feel a sharp pain in his shoulder, like a muscle or something else just snapped. He still managed to kill the walker since there was no stopping the strike, but as soon as the knife was buried inside the head Connor let go with an awkward gasp and fell to his knees, grabbing his shoulder in shock. He could almost instantly feel a warm and damp spot form underneath his hand. He heard Merle grunting right behind him and a second later the last walker fell to the ground.

Nothing but the panting of the two men could be heard as Connor was feeling his shoulder and tried to make out what was wrong. Although it wasn't too much he could still feel, smell and see that blood that was slowly staining the bandage on his shoulder just like the collar of his shirt, and then he finally understood what had caused the sudden pain. He could actually feel it now. He had managed to split his stitches.  
  
 _Oh great. Well fucking done._  
  
He cursed and hissed as he tried to get back up in a hurry. He didn't want Merle to see or notice, but it was already too late.

"What's the matter blondie? Didcha wet your pants cos all them walkers attacking us? I told yah yah ain't..." the redneck stopped talking when he noticed the bloodstain on the Irishman's bandage that was slowly getting bigger. Connor got up and sorted his clothes with a grunt, and after that he placed his broken hand on his shoulder to shield it from Merle's sight.

"Instead of talkin bullshit yer might as well start workin on a fuckin car. Noise's gonna draw more walkers in. We need ta move" the blonde muttered and walked past the older Dixon, but Merle would not let him go just like that without making some sort of remark on the issue.

"Hey, when yah came talkin t'me about your plan ain't no word I heard you saying 'bout how screwed yah pansy are. I thought they stitched yah up for good, I thought you're ready t'go and kill that son of a bitch good and proper" Merle said and followed Connor, who was heading for one of the doors in a hurry. He needed to find a mirror, and maybe he could find some car keys while Merle was busy hot-wiring a car. If only he would actually start working on that.

"I am, alright?" the blonde spat and kept walking, trying to lose the older Dixon.

"Now get a fuckin car ta work. I'm fine, it's just a fuckin scratch and we need ta keep moving!"

"Yeah, and next thing I know, yah pansy gonna be passing out on me and get killed because of a scratch and people gonna say it's all my fault. Hey, that's it for yah mick" Merle went on and grabbed Connor by his arm, making the Irishman snap again. He shrugged the redneck's hand off with an annoyed growl.

"Don't ye fuckin touch me!" he yelled and then pointed a finger at the older Dixon.

"You 'n me made a fuckin deal and yer gonna keep to that shit, do ye understand me. Yer brother's out there with this psychopath, and the longer we're wastin time on this bullshit the more likely it's gonna be that that Governor freak's gonna do some serious shit t'our people. Now leave me alone and get us a fuckin car, ye piece of shit."

Merle gritted his teeth and glared at Connor, eyes wandering to his bloody bandage every couple of seconds. He then put his arms in the air and shrugged.

"Fine, no need t'get your panties in a bunch, paddy" he growled and turned around to head for the cars, giving Connor the opportunity to finally, _finally_ take a deep breath and wince in pain. He could feel it now, the spots where his stitches had split and ripped his flesh, like the wound hadn't been painful enough before that. He massaged his aching shoulder and then headed for one of the doors.

He grabbed his knife and moved closer to the wooden surface to listen up and make out if there was a walker inside the motel room. He couldn't hear a thing, so he decided to grab the door handle. The door wasn't locked, which was a good thing. He still didn't really fear an attack but figured it would probably be a good thing to be careful now that he was already screwed enough anyway.   
  
He put a hand on the door and then pushed it open slowly and carefully. The room smelled horrible, like rotten food and other disgusting things had been boiling inside that room because of the hot Georgian summer heat. But it didn't smell like a corpse was lying in there or walking around, which was another good sign.

Connor let go of the door and kicked it open with his foot, knife still up in the air and ready to stab should an unexpected guest attack him despite his precautions. But the Irishman wasn't prepared for the blow to the back of his head that happened right then, coming from a person who was standing right behind him rather than in front of him.   
  
Connor let out a surprised and painfilled grunt and stumbled inside the motel room, landing face down on the dirty carpet. He felt an unpleasant throbbing on the back of his head as the world started to spin, and before he passed out completely he could feel how he was being turned on his back and grabbed by his wrists. He could make out the blurry face of Merle Dixon, who was dragging him further inside the motel room, away from the cars, and towards the bed.

"What the.." he mumbled but couldn't fight him or form a full sentence because he was half unconscious already.

"Sorry blondie, but ain't no way 'm takin a liability with me" the older Dixon grunted as he grabbed Connor by his waist and lifted him up to throw him on the bed. Once he had made sure the blonde was lying there and still listening to him he grabbed him by his chin and looked him in his half-closed eyes.

" Yah gonna go back t'them. Get them ready for what's next. Yah ain't gonna come after me. And yah gonna make sure Daryl ain't gonna come lookin for me either."

He then let go of Connor and looked at him just for a couple of seconds longer.

"That's something I gotta do on my own" he said then and punched the Irishman hard in his face, making him black out before he got the chance to protest.


	53. Massacre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole two very famous lines and I regret nothing.
> 
>  **setting** : episode 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

The first thing Connor noticed when he finally woke up again was that it was way too hot inside this room. His dark grey shirt stuck to his back and was almost black because it was so soaked with sweat and some blood. He could still feel the constant thumping in his shoulder right where he had managed to split his stitches, but he was used to pain by now, especially since his head hurt way more than his shoulder right now. The Irishman groaned and rubbed his face with his healthy hand as he tried to remember what the fuck had happened to him.

The room he was in stank like hell, but he was lying on a bed that was actually rather comfortable compared to the one he usually slept in back at the prison. It took him a moment to focus and he wondered where Daryl was, but when he remembered he sat up with one swift and abrupt movement, which made everything spin and his shoulder ache like hell. He rubbed it with an annoyed grunt and tried to get out of bed, stumbling towards the wooden motel door.

_Right. Daryl. Daryl's brother._

That fucker Merle had knocked him out and walked off on his own to execute _his_ plan and kill the Governor. He didn't know how much time had passed since Merle had knocked him out, but he just knew that couldn't waste any more time. No matter how much he hated that bastard, Merle was his friend's brother and he was in some serious danger right now. No one could fight an unknown amount of enemies on their own, no matter how invincible they looked. That asshole would most certainly get himself killed if Connor did not manage to get to the farm in time, and the Irishman cursed himself for taking the redneck with him in the first place.

It wasn't like he would mourn Merle's death, but if the man got killed today then it would be all his fault, and he was pretty sure that Daryl would never forgive him that. When Connor finally reached the door he tried to open it, but it would not give in. It wasn't locked, he could tell that simply because he had managed to open it a tiny bit, but something still blocked his way, made it impossible for him to open this door. The blonde cursed and started kicking and shoving at it but without any luck. He then made his way over to the window right next to the door, only to curse once more because there were bars in front of it.

"What the actual fuck?!" he exclaimed and tried to have a look outside to see what was blocking the door. He rolled his eyes when he saw that Merle had knocked the vending machine over, which had been standing right next to the door. _Fucking brilliant._ Connor headed for the door once more and started kicking and cursing all the way through.

"Ye fuckin moron yer gonna get yer ass killed You! Fucking! _Hick_!" Connor yelled with each kick until a bloody hand with long fingernails moved through the slid. It startled him and made him stumble backwards. He could hear them now, a whole bunch of walkers that seemed to be stumbling in the direction of the door. Some of them already seemed to be right in front of it, tearing at the wood, trying to get in. Connor supposed that they didn't really want to attack him, they were just getting attracted by the noise he was making. At least he prayed to god that these dead fucks weren't here to come and get him.

He could hear the creaking of the door as more and more walkers were grabbing the wood and pulling pulling pulling, to a point where it actually freaked him out a bit. It got darker inside the room because some of the walkers were blocking the window and tried to get in through there, grabbing and yanking at the bars that shielded it from the outside. Connor slowly walked backwards and tried not to panic, which was actually quite hard to do now. The window and the door were his only way out, behind him there was just a wall.

 _Alright, relax. They're ain't gonna attack you. Yer gonna be fine. They already bit ye twice. A whole bunch of them just walked past ye and even lay on top of you without ripping yer throat out,_ he tried to calm himself down inside his head and turned to his left and right, trying to find anything he could use to defend himself. He then noticed the door to the bathroom and ran for it.  
  
When he opened the door he almost gagged because a terrible stench hit him right in the face. A corpse was lying there, leaned against the wall by the toilet. The man had a gun in his one hand and a picture of a pretty woman in the other. He had a massive hole in the back of his head and there were blood splatters all over the tiles behind him, suggesting that he had shot himself.

Connor looked at the man for a moment, ignoring all the banging and creaking which was coming from the other room. It really looked like the man had committed suicide in here, and for some reason that made the Irishman really sad. Because he could have been just like that man a couple of months ago, lying on the ground with a hole in his head in some house or under a tree, because during the first couple of months after Murphy's death he had been thinking about shooting himself every single night and day. The picture made it only worse because he had been just like that, holding on to a memory, staring at the picture of his lost loved one.

The sight made him sad but also glad, because he wasn't the man, because he had managed to get over it, because Daryl had saved him from killing himself and because he wasn't depressed or lonely anymore. Another loud bang snapped him out of his train of thoughts, and he knew that he needed to do something about the horrible situation he was in. He probably wouldn't be alive for much longer if he didn't get his ass out of here soon. He noticed the small window just underneath the ceiling by the bathtub and made his way over there, but after climbing and slipping and nearly getting stuck he came to the conclusion that there was no getting out through there.

"And people are tellin me I should fuckin eat more" he grumbled as he just couldn't fit his chest through the small window.

The banging and creaking of the door, window and wall next door sounded really dangerous now, and Connor took another deep breath, trying not to panic. He climbed out of the bathtub and yanked his hair with his healthy hand, trying to come up with a plan on how to get out of this mess. He then noticed the fire axe which was lying in a puddle of blood close to the body, and after staring at it for several minutes he came to the conclusion that this was the only way.

"Alright. Fuck it" he growled and then knelt down to grab it, feeling its weight and trying to hold it with just one hand, since his left hand was of no use right now.

Merle had let him keep his knife and gun, but that wasn't of much use for this kind of thing. He needed to do this the hard way.

He headed for the main room and saw that the door was still shaking and creaking, and the walkers were making some horrible noise by now. He suspected that there were at least 20 of them standing out there in front of that door, and it almost sounded like they didn't even know what they were here for anyway.   
  
They all just kept banging and grabbing because the others were doing it, herd mentality working at its finest. Connor stared at the door and balanced the axe in his healthy hand, and after being hesitant for several minutes he finally made the first move.

"Here we go" he muttered as he struck out, ignoring the pain in his mutilated shoulder when he strained his muscles.

He struck out as wide as he could and then hit the wooden door with all the strength he could gather. He could feel how his loose stitches were cutting his flesh around the wound but decided to blend that out, and soon he was hacking at the door in a steady rhythm. He could almost hear Daryl freak out and call him nuts because of this plan, because he was actually making it easier for the walkers to break in this way. But this was the only way out, and it needed to be done.   
  
He kept hacking and hacking until there was a hole in the door, which made it possible for the first walker to look inside. The figure of a dead of old man pressed his bloody face against the hole, snapping and trying to get in. Connor watched the undead and raised both his eyebrows. He needed a break from all the hacking, but he also couldn't hold back the remark that came to his mind when he saw that face look inside the motel room through that hole.

"I swear ta fucking god, if ye say "Here's Johnny" now..." he growled and then chuckled because of his own joke.

He looked at the axe in his hand and smirked even more.

"Ye know what, grandpa?" he asked then and looked at the snapping and bloody walker.

"I just remembered that _I'm_ te one with the axe, which makes _me_ Johnny."

He twirled the axe around and approached the door once more with an evil and pleased smirk.

"Don't worry, Wendy. I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going ta bash yer brains in" he quoted and struck out again, not only hitting the wooden door but also the walker right in the face, crushing his nose and splitting the skull with a disgusting and yet satisfying splash and gush of blood and brain matter.

* * *

Daryl was actually glad that they had managed to get back to the prison without a single scratch. He still didn't know what the Governor and Rick had agreed on, and truth was that he knew it was gonna be useless anyway, but they had survived another day, another dangerous situation without getting shot at. He still couldn't stop thinking about what Milton and Martinez had told him, and he couldn't wait to share that information with Connor. He supposed that the people were right, that he needed to get the Irishman away from this whole battle, but it was a tough decision, really.

He didn't want to die and he didn't want Connor to die, which would make a decision to leave pretty simple, except that it wasn't simple at all. He didn't want to betray Rick and the group. He didn't want to leave them to die here. They needed every single hand they could get to protect this prison, a place which they all now considered their home. So they would need to stay here, they would need to fight and risk their lives. And judging by what Martinez had told him it was probably going to happen tomorrow.

Daryl got off his motorbike as soon as he had entered the prison yard and Maggie and Carol had closed the gate to keep the walkers from entering.  
They had not even made it away from their vehicles when they saw how Glenn came running for them.

"Rick!" he shouted as Herschel, Rick and Daryl were just about to head for the cell block.

"Rick!" the Korean shouted once more and came to a halt right in front of them.

"We can't find Connor and Merle" he gasped, completely out of breath.

Daryl widened his eyes.

"What?"

Glenn nodded and tried to catch breath.

"Yeah. Connor's cell is open and we don't know where the hell Merle is either."

Daryl and Rick exchanged worried looks, and then the hunter threw his crossbow over his shoulder and started running.

"Come on, I think I know where Merle's at!"

Glenn was about to come as well, but Daryl stopped him.

"No, not you. Yah probably better off staying away from him for now."

"He wanted to go after you!" Glenn shouted behind them, which made Daryl turn around again so he could look at the Korean.

"And Connor as well " Glenn went on and the hunter pressed his lips together.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. This was bad. This was _really really_ bad. _But Connor and Merle?_   
He doubted that they really ran off together. He didn't believe that the two of them could be really working together just to get to him.   
No. Maybe Connor had really run off, but he was pretty sure that Merle was still busy searching for his drugs.

"Let's just see if Merle's still where I last saw 'im look for his stupid crystal."

* * *

Daryl and Rick were running through the dark corridors that led back to the laundry room. They didn't come across any walkers, but they also didn't see any new corpses on the ground. Daryl kept praying that he was going to find his brother, and right now he didn't even care if he was going to find him stuffed with drugs or god knows what kind of shit. He just didn't want it to be true that both his brother AND his friend could really be so stupid and leave together.

"You think Merle let Connor out?" Rick asked as they were just about to reach the door that led to the laundry room.

"Nah. Ain't got the keys, and I doubt that Glenn gave 'em to him. Even if he did have the keys, ain't no way he let the leprechaun out. They hate each other way too much to be workin together" Daryl answered with an angry headshake, although it was slowly dawning on him. He kicked the door open and entered the laundry room, but there was absolutely no one in there.

"Merle!" Daryl yelled and had a look around, but it was obvious that his brother wasn't there.

The hunter clenched his fists and frowned angrily.

"Damnit, he was in here just before we left. Been searching the whole place for drugs" the younger Dixon muttered and then looked at Rick, who obviously didn't like the whole thing at all.

"Maybe he went lookin somewhere else" Daryl went on but Rick shook his head and grabbed his gun tighter.

"Daryl, you remember how Connor kept talking about killing the Governor? Merle said the same thing, and now that you were gone he told Glenn that he was going to come after us...I think they both took off."

Daryl chewed on his lower lip and tried to stay calm, but he could already feel how the panic was taking over.

"Shit. Shit shit shit" he hissed and started walking in circles.

He didn't really know what to do. It felt so wrong to be all alone, and he didn't want to lose both his brother and friend on the same day just because of their stupidity. He could feel the anger inside of him grow because they both had ignored his pleadings. He had asked Connor to let him do his thing and trust him, and he had asked Merle to come back and stay with him. And now they were both gone.

"The Governor told me he would let us go if we gave him Michonne" Rick suddenly said and Daryl looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Woodbury would leave us be. No war. No bloodshed, just a simple exchange" the policeman went on and looked Daryl straight in the eye.

"We can't let them screw this up. We need to go after them" he said and was about to leave the room, but then Daryl already reached out and grabbed him by his sleeve.

"You can't track for shit" he protested because he didn't want Rick to be part of this issue at all.

This wasn't about the prison, it was about his family right now. And that was none of the policeman's business.

Rick stopped walking and looked at him.

"Then the both of us."

Daryl shook his head and grabbed his crossbow, ready to go himself.

"No, just me. They're my family."

"We're all family" Rick countered but Daryl kept shaking his head.

"No. This ain't about the prison or you people. It's personal. Besides, even if y'all came with me, ain't no way you gonna achieve shit with 'em. They only listen to me. I said I'd go and I'll go. Plus, we gonna come back here you need to be ready. Your Michonne plan's just a bluff. Their henchman told me when you were busy bargaining with that bastard that they're gonna attack anyway. Probably tomorrow. Guy already prepared 'em."

Rick stared back at him. He was surprised, but it also looked like he knew anyway.

"Don't let anyone come after me. Especially not Glenn and the others. I'll bring 'em back before nightfall" Daryl went on and then left the room to go after his friend and brother as fast as possible.

* * *

Connor was fucking exhausted from all the hacking and slashing. It was a freaking good idea how he was handling the walkers, he gave himself that, but it was just too exhausting. He had made a large hole in the door to get only one walker inside at a time, and every time they got too close he killed them with a single hack to their heads.  
  
He still wasn't sure if the walkers were really going to attack him or not, which was why he kept striking out before they got too close. But after killing maybe 15 walkers that were slowly piling up on top of the vending machine or somewhere by the door he just couldn't do it anymore.

His shoulder hurt like hell and bled like a bitch because he was overstraining the stitches and just made it worse, but he needed to keep killing, needed to keep hacking just so he could get out of this godforsaken motel room. He needed to go after Merle, make sure that that bastard didn't end up getting killed because once again his plan was going terribly wrong. Connor dropped the axe after a while and was panting so loudly that he feared he was going to suffocate, and just for a second he blamed the fact that he was a fucking chain smoker. His lungs were too fucked for this sort of thing and he knew it, and he just needed a break.

But the walkers knew no such thing as a break. They kept coming, grabbing the hole and stumbling over the vending machine, and soon the Irishman couldn't fight them anymore. He yelped in surprise when the first walker managed to stumble inside his motel room, and although he did manage to shoot him dead another two were already entering, and the blonde soon had to realize that he was going to get overwhelmed.

"No no no no!" he screamed and tried to back off as the walkers kept coming at him.

But he was too exhausted, too dizzy, in too much pain to even really get where he was actually going until his back connected with the wall right next to the bed. The Irishman kept shooting at the walkers but soon ran out of bullets. He knew that he didn't have enough time to reload so he dropped his Beretta and grabbed his knife instead, ready to stab any walker that came too close. Blood was running down his face and soaking his shirt from all the previous hacking with the axe, and the carpet was nothing but a pool of dark red stinking and sticky blood.   
  
It was a bloody massacre because there were so many corpses all around him, but somehow they still just kept coming, no matter how many he killed. A female walker came too close to him and he stabbed her forehead, but his hands were so slippery that he lost grip of the knife when the walker dropped to the ground. The next thing Connor tried was to kick and punch his next attackers, but one of the walkers managed to grab him by his wrist and kept coming at him until he shoved the blonde against the wall.

"NO! FUCK OFF!" Connor yelled once more and turned his head as he squeezed his eyes shut because he feared another bite.

All the more did it surprise him when the walker wouldn't do anything like that. The undead still kept coming at him and invaded his personal space, but instead of attacking him the stinking corpse started sniffing on Connor's bloody bandage. He would snarl every once in a while as if he was unsure whether it should attack or not. The Irishman held his breath and stared at the undead with wide eyes as it kept sniffing and sniffing on his neck, his throat, his shoulder his arms. Now that the blonde had stopped hacking and screaming he noticed that the walkers were slowly calming down.

They were staggering around the motel room as if they were searching for something, a victim, anything to eat, and soon he could hear the disgusting ripping and smacking of lips that was coming from the bathroom. Some of them had obviously started eating the man who had shot himself, now that there didn't seem to be any fresh meat for them inside this room. They still seemed to register Connor as one of them which was why they hadn't buried their teeth in his throat yet.

And once the Irishman realized that he decided to be a quiet as possible. He stared at the walker that was pressing him against the wall and shoved him away, and once again he was quite surprised when the undead wouldn't attack him again. He just stumbled away and then headed for the bathroom as well. Connor just stood there, baffled, as he watched the couple of more walkers that entered the motel room. A few of them would look at him with their terrifying big and empty swollen yellow eyes, but most of them were heading right for their other herd members in the bathroom. There was a disgusting feast going on right there, and the Irishman figured that this was his chance to get out of this mess.

He still decided to imitate the walkers just to make sure he was going to get past them without them growing suspicious. He even did the limping and dragging his feet part as he went for all the weapons he had dropped. He then stumbled towards the broken door. Although he was still exhausted and even terrified because of all the mess and danger he couldn't fight the surprised and smug smile that broke through. Just for once in his life he seemed to have some serious fucking luck ever since the apocalypse had happened.


	54. This Sorrowful Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 15 " _This Sorrowful Life_ "

Daryl had been following the track for more than one hour when he finally came across a promising location. He could see an old abandoned motel right by the road, but what really caught his attention were all the bodies that were lying around in front of it. At least 20 bodies were lying there, and when he got closer he pulled a face because of the stench.  
  
He took a closer look at the slaughtered corpses and noticed the different sizes of their stab wounds. At least two different knives had been used here, and the blood was relatively fresh. It just had to be Connor's and Merle's doing. The hunter kicked one of the bodies and then raised his head to have another look around. He couldn't really hear anything apart from the rustling of leaves and the creaking of wood. Not even moans could be heard, so he supposed he was all alone.

Daryl then noticed a turned-over vending machine by one of the rooms and saw the broken door, which made him frown. It had to be fresh as well, considering how many bodies were lying by the machine and how much blood was on the door, but he didn't really get what the whole thing was about. It looked like someone had tried to lock the door with the vending machine, but the person inside had managed to break out. _Who had it been? Merle? Connor?_

The hunter took another look around to make sure that the area was relatively secure and then made his way over to the door. The smell of blood, guts and rotten flesh got worse and worse the closer he got to the room, and he could feel how his heart was starting to beat faster. _What was waiting inside?_ He prayed to god that it wasn't Merle's or Connor's body. Only god knew what kind of fucked up fight the two had managed to get themselves into with him gone. He had a look inside the room, only to see that there were still a couple of walkers staggering around inside.  
  
He swallowed hard and prepared himself for the worst, but neither Connor nor Merle could be seen anywhere. The walkers had not noticed him yet since most of them were busy eating a rotten corpse, but it wasn't one of the men he was looking for, since the body was wearing different clothes. As Daryl looked down at the moving feet and the feasting walkers he noticed a couple of bullet shells. 9mm. Of course, a shitton of people had 9mm shells these days, but for him it was a lead.

Connor.

Connor had been locked in here but had managed to get out.

The hunter shook his head and tried to get away from the motel as fast and quiet as possible. He knew what it meant. Something had went wrong between his friend and brother, making Merle lock Connor up inside this motel room. He didn't know if Merle had locked his friend up WITH the walkers or if the undead had entered the room after his brother had left, but no matter what had happened, something had went wrong.  
  
Daryl had noticed two sets of fresh tire track on his way to the motel room. So either Connor and Merle had split up and were now driving around with two cars, or someone was chasing them. No matter what it was, he needed to find them. He needed to get them back. And that fast. As soon as he was far enough away from the motel he started running, following the tire tracks, and although he wasn't religious he still started praying. He wanted them to be safe.

* * *

When Connor finally reached the farm the whole place was a complete mess. Countless thoughts were going through his mind as he slowed the car down. He had been speeding down the road, desperate to get here in time to save Merle from certain death, to warn Daryl and the others, should they still be here. Everything was -so- fucked up. This wasn't how his plan was supposed to work. Not at all. He had pictured it in a completely different way. He was used to his plans not working out exactly like he wanted, but in the end they had always worked. But this?

Everything was so off. He could see countless bodies for once. That was nothing really surprising, considering that a meeting had happened here just a couple of hours ago. Both Woodbury and Rick and Daryl sure had cleaned the place out to be safe. But it weren't just the bodies of rotten corpses. No, there were also fresh bodies lying around here. Bodies of people that had been alive only a couple of hours earlier. So something had went down here. Obviously. Connor felt a massive lump in his throat. _What if Merle had screwed everything up for Rick and Daryl? What if his friend was dead? What if everyone was dead? What if Woodbury was heading for the prison right now and he wasn't there to warn the others? To protect them? And where was Merle?"_

The Irishman stopped the car for a second and moved his healthy hand over his face to calm himself down. He needed to focus. He needed a plan. He let his gaze wander and tried to make out the enemy. Anyone in the woods, the bushes close to the farm. He couldn't see anyone. And he was pretty sure people would've shot at him already if they were here. Besides. He couldn't see any car. He couldn't see their Hyundai, he couldn't see Daryl's motorbike, he couldn't see anyone or anything. Just bloody dead corpses, and a few walker that were feasting on them.

"Fuck" the Irishman muttered and shook his head, unsure what to do next.  
  
Merle had to be here somewhere. If the whole thing had went down and he had come out of here alive then he would have passed him on his way here. And he was also pretty sure that that bastard would have let him out of the motel then.

He needed to find Merle, and he needed to make sure if he knew any of the bodies. The Irishman started the engine again and accelerated. The first thing he did was drive a slow circle around the property to get a better look. He wouldn't stop eying his surroundings, ready to react should somebody start shooting at him. But once again it looked like no one was there. The blonde had just driven around the corner by two old houses when he noticed the black car, which was standing right in the middle of the meadow between the houses and the silos. He knew the vehicle, because he had seen it back at the motel before he had been locked up.

So Merle was definitely here. He drove on for a bit more, being well aware that a couple of walker were now following him because of the noise the car was making. He finally stopped the car when he recognized the first body. The man had very long black hair and looked like his ancestors had been Native Americans. He remembered the man from the night he had been bit back in Woodbury. He had been one of the guards. He had the ultimate proof now. Merle had managed to get here, and he had started shooting at people from Woodbury. _Had he managed to kill the Governor?_

Connor got out of the car and grabbed his knife to kill the three walkers that had followed his car. The undead still wouldn't really attack him, although they were a bit more interested in him than other undead, who were still busy eating the corpses all around the property. Connor stabbed the three creepers and winced again because his shoulder hurt like hell, but he couldn't use his left arm, so it would have to do. Once the Irishman had put the murdered undead to the ground he let his gaze wander and checked out a few of the corpses. He remembered a few faces from Woodbury, but neither Daryl, Rick, Merle or the Governor were amongst them.

The Irishman suspected that maybe the other members of his group had made their way back to the prison. _Maybe they had taken the Governor hostage after all this slaughter?_ Of course, that was a stupid idea, but it could explain the lack of their presence. Then there was also the other option, which made Connor's heart stop for a second.

 _What if Merle had screwed everything up and they had been taken hostage instead? Just like Glenn had suggested? What if his friend was back at Woodbury again?_ He paled at the thought and started running. He needed to find out more. He cursed loudly because for a second it felt like his mind was completely blank, like he had forgotten everything about what Daryl had taught him about tracking and hunting. He searched the black car but could find nothing that would suggest where Merle was at. He thought it was incredibly stupid that he couldn't yell his friend's name to make finding them easier. But he didn't want to risk drawing even more walkers in. He searched the houses in panic and almost wanted to give it up because neither Daryl nor Merle were anywhere in sight, when a strange noise which was coming from another hall startled him.

The Irishman froze right in his tracks and listened up, trying to make out from where the noise was coming at. He located the house and considered what he should do. It could be a walker, considering how many of them were staggering around here. But he still couldn't fight the odd feeling in his gut. _What if it was one of his people?_ He needed to check it out. Connor started running and finally entered the last house on the far end of the property, only to let out a loud gasp because of what he saw.

"Fuck! Merle!" he yelled and ran for the man, who was lying there on the ground, shirt bloody and gurgling and making the most inhumane sounds.

It didn't look like he was dead yet, but he was in really bad shape.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, ye moron! I told ye we'd do this together!" Connor yelled as he knelt down in front of the man, trying to make out what was wrong.

He was even more shocked when he finally saw where all the blood was coming from.

Merle had been shot.

"What te fuck happened?!" Connor gasped and turned around in horror to see if there was anything lying around here that he could use to stop the bleeding. Since there was nothing there he grabbed gasping and coughing Merle by his shoulders to get rid of his black shirt, so he could use it to add some pressure to the wound.

"Fuck, we'll get yer back t'gether, come on" the blonde muttered and then grabbed Daryl's brother by his arm to lift him up.

Panic was slowly rushing over him because there was so much blood everywhere. Merle had been shot in the stomach, which was a pretty nasty spot to get shot. He was dying and that really slow and in pure agony, and the Irishman just knew that their time was running out. He didn't know when Daryl's brother had been shot, but if there was one thing he knew for sure then it was that he needed to get Merle back to the prison. They needed the right tools to remove the bullet and take care of that wound, and it was way too dangerous here with all the walkers around anyway. Even if they didn't attack him, they could still attack Merle, which was another reason why they needed to get to the car as fast as possible.

"Told...yah..ass..t'...t'...t'get back" Merle murmured as Connor heaved him outside, and with every single word that he spoke more and more blood was coming out of his mouth.

"Sh, shut it. Don't speak. It'll make it worse. We need ta get ye back t'the prison" Connor grunted and tried his hardest not to lose his shit, although he was really starting to panic now. He couldn't stop blaming himself for that wound, because he had been the one to talk Merle into this, because he had been the one mocking his conscience to make him go with him. And now this. Daryl's brother had been shot and it was all his fault. _Oh, his friend was going to kill him for that. Fuck fuck fuck._

What made it even worse was the fact that Merle was so heavy and he was in excruciating pain himself because of the bite wound that had fully opened itself up again because of all the straining today. Both men were bleeding, both men were stumbling, _and everything was so so wrong and so so fucked._

"I fucking told ye!" Connor yelled because he finally lost it.

"All...all your fault...pansy" Merle grunted and yelped when Connor heaved him inside the black car, since this one was closest to the house and had both its doors open.

"Shut up!" Connor yelled and then ran around the car to get to the driver's side.

He wouldn't keep his eyes off Merle the entire time, who was incredibly pale and bloody by now.

Connor fumbled with the car keys with his shaky and bloody hands and was properly panicking by now when he heard Merle's heavy breathing.

_Oh shit shit shit, Merle was going to die and it was all his fault._

For days he had wished for him to die and now it was really happening.  
And it was so so wrong and he didn't want it to happen and he was so angry and so scared and in such a hurry...

"You don't die on me, ye hear me?!" he snapped and Merle and then finally managed to start the car.

He drove away from the farm at full speed and looked at Merle every couple of seconds, to make sure that the bastard wasn't going to die.

_Oh fuck fuck fuck. Please, god, please. Don't let him die. Don't let him die. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to Daryl._

He could hardly drive the car because of his broken hand, the panic and the fact that he was pressing the bloody shirt to Merle's belly, hoping to stop the bleeding until they got back to the prison. It was maybe a 30 minute drive and the rational thinking part of his brain knew that he wasn't going to make it, but he did not want to hear that, did not want to believe that. And this was exactly the point.

_You just got to believe._

His motto. Of course he just had to fucking believe.  
He had to fucking believe that Merle was going to make it and that this whole bloody mess wasn't his fault.

"You don't die on me or I swear ta fuckin god I will kill ye, do ye hear me?" Connor muttered and turned his head for a second to look at Merle with wide eyes and panic written all over his face.

"We're gonna get back t'the prison and yer gonna be fine! We're gonna get back t'Daryl and he's gonna take care of yer worthless ass, alright?!" he tried to reassure dying Merle, although he knew that he was absolutely crap at it right now and although he knew that it was pointless. All the more did it startle him when Merle suddenly grabbed his arm and buried his fingers in his flesh, clutching so tight that it hurt the Irishman.

"N..no. Y'listen..listen t'me" he gasped as another gush of blood escaped his mouth and he was spitting and groaning in pain.

It sounded like he was drowning in his blood which freaked Connor out even more.

"Don't talk! It'll..."

"LISTEN T'ME" Merle snapped with all the strength he could gather and stared at Connor with wide and wild eyes.

"Y'look after little D. Yah...yah protect him no..no matter what. Yah..yah gonna die t'save..t'save his life or I swear..I swear I'll haunt..haunt yer faggy ass forever" he grunted and then started gasping and coughing even more blood.

"No I won't!" Connor yelled and nearly managed to crash their car into a walker because he was speeding down the road so fast that he could hardly control the vehicle anymore.

"I won't cos yer gonna fucking survive, alright?!" he snapped and cursed when Merle wouldn't let go of his arm.

"Yah..yah look after..after m'brother. Wanted..wanted yah instead'a me..anyways" the older Dixon went on and took a couple of loud and raspy bloody breaths.

Connor looked at him for a moment with wide eyes.

 _Oh fuck fuck fuck. Daryl was so going to murder him for all this mess._ And right now he was in so much panic and his heart was so racing that just for a second he wanted to bawl his eyes out. He couldn't understand why the fuck this was happening to him every single time. All the time shit went wrong with him around. Cold sweat was running down his forehead because the experience was absolutely traumatic even now, because just for a second he wasn't in this car, this wasn't his best friend's brother's blood and this wasn't Merle asking him to promise him something before he died.

No, right then he was back in Boston again, and all the blood on his hands, on his clothes and in his face was his brother's blood. And _his_ brother was dying because his plan had gone wrong, and this wasn't Merle but Murphy begging him to promise him something before he closed his eyes forever.

He couldn't understand why the fuck the past would repeat itself over and over again, and why it would happen right when he was about to finally get better. It was so incredibly unfair that his plans were getting so many people killed these days instead of saving them. Because this was what his plan had been about. He had wanted to kill the Governor just to save everyone. Daryl, the prison, the group, even Merle. _And now this? The Governor was still alive, his shoulder was fucked and Daryl's brother was dying for nothing? Just because he had been so stupid, because his plan had been so stupid?_ No way. Merle wasn't going to die. Merle wasn't going to fucking die, and he wasn't going to hear his last words.

"Don't be stupid" he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yer his fuckin brother, not me. He fuckin loves ye, alright? He wants yer ta be with him and he wants you back. You got any idea how much he fuckin missed ye all winter? He wouldn't stop talkin about you, and he always looked up ta ye. He told me" the Irishman went on and then looked at Merle with a big lump in his throat.

The man next to him was only half awake by now. For the past couple of days he had felt nothing but disgust and hatred whenever he had been looking at Merle Dixon, and he felt so so sorry for that now, he wanted to take everything back, he wanted to make everything alright but couldn't, and that was driving him insane.

Because he didn't know what to do. _Should he stop and try to remove the bullet himself? Should he take care of the wound himself and hope that the car still had its fucking first aid kid in the trunk? Or should he keep driving and hope they could get to the prison in time, where Herschel probably was, where they had an infirmary? What if Herschel wasn't there and he was just wasting time here? Fuck fuck fuck._ He so didn't know what to do to make it alright. All he could do was drive faster, which he did. And that at such a speed that should they hit a walker or a tree in a minute they both would be dead and that without a doubt. He swallowed hard and looked at Merle again.

"Yer a fucking big brother. Big brothers don't get ta die. Big brothers need ta be strong fer their siblings, and yer a fucking Dixon.  
You don't get t'die. Listen t'me. Daryl needs ye, man."

When he looked at the road again he let out a surprised shriek. He could see a person coming right at them, and when he took a closer look he saw that it actually _was_ Daryl. He hit the brakes with full force and nearly managed to get the car into spinning out of control. The screetching of the tires went on for a good thirty seconds until the vehicle finally came to a halt, only a couple of inches away from the hunter, who was staring at them with wide eyes.

Connor opened the door and jumped out in panic, hair sticking straight up and clothes, face and hands covered with blood.

"Thank god. Thank. Fucking. God" he exclaimed as he ran around the car to get to the other side, where Merle was sitting in the passenger seat, face down and motionless.

"What t'hell happened?" Daryl yelled and followed his friend with wide eyes.

"He locked me inside this fuckin motel and went off on his own ta kill te Governor. Fuck, I think he was shot, we need ta fucking do something" Connor answered and ripped the passenger door open to get a better look at the older Dixon.

"Hey come on, man" he said and grabbed Merle by his shoulder, but couldn't do anything else because he was suddenly being shoved out of the way by Daryl.

"What the...oh my god! What the.." the hunter stuttered as he saw the bloody hole in his brother's belly.  
  
He tried to get a better look at the mess and started treating it as good as he could.

Connor moved his healthy but bloody hand through his hair and tried not to panic any more, but it was absolutely useless.  
It felt like he was hyperventilating.

"I told him nat t'do it but he knocked me out and when I got there 't was..." he didn't get to say anything else because Daryl suddenly turned around, got back up and started shoving and yelling at him. His face was nothing but a red and furious grimace.

"I told yah t'stay in there! I asked you to trust me!" he yelled as loud as he could and kept shoving and shoving Connor, who was staring back at him with wide eyes, unable to defend himself because of the shock.

"I know..I..we...we just wanted t'help ye people, and end this fer..."

"We told yah we'd handle this! We made a deal! You promised! And now look at him! This is all.."

A loud groan behind them made them both stop. Daryl still had his back turned on the car, but Connor could see what was happening. He watched in horror as Merle suddenly started moving again, and a second later a pale hand that was covered with black veins grabbed the door of the car to pull the heavy and bloody body out of it. Daryl eventually turned around to see what was going on, only to stop right in his tracks. Both men watched in utter shock how Merle dragged himself out of the car, wavering and staggering and most of all: growling and snarling.

For just a second it had looked like that by some miracle the older Dixon had managed to get out of the car on his own, like the injury really wasn't so bad. But when Daryl and Connor saw the look on his face they had to realize that this wasn't the case. The Irishman's blood ran cold. Daryl just stood there, staring at his brother, completely petrified.

_This couldn't be happening._

Another exhausted groan, another snarl and the slow and clumsy dragging of feet as the figure that had once been Merle Dixon dragged himself further along the open car door, wide and milky eyes fixed on Daryl and Daryl only.

_This couldn't be happening._

The younger Dixon just stared at his brother and dropped his crossbow.

Connor couldn't see his face since he was standing right behind him, but he didn't even need to see it. He knew what Daryl was going through. He felt a thick lump in his throat. He couldn't believe it either. _This was so so wrong. This couldn't..How could...He had been talking to Merle just a second ago. And now?_

The thud of Daryl's crossbow snapped him out of his shock.  
He could see how snarling Merle was coming closer and closer to his friend now, mouth bloody, eyes milky and.. _.dead._

Daryl's brother was one of _them_ now. And it was all his fault.  
This moment seemed to last forever as Merle kept staggering towards them.

Until he heard the sob.

He still couldn't see Daryl's face, but his whole body language told him everything he needed to know.  
Daryl had pulled his shoulders up by now, arms bent like he didn't know what he was supposed to do with them.

Another sob.

And this time it was louder as Merle kept coming and coming.  
It was such a heartbreaking moment that Connor nearly wanted to start bawling as well.  
But he knew that he was not allowed to do that. He needed to be strong. He remembered what Merle had asked him to do.

_Look after little D. Yah protect him no matter what._

He needed to be strong for the both of them right now. It didn't matter if he had caused the whole thing or not. If he didn't do anything about it then Merle would attack and kill Daryl in just a matter of seconds. Connor stepped closer to his sobbing friend and tried to put a hand on his shoulder to pull him away from Merle. But it seemed like Daryl could sense his hand, because he suddenly stumbled out of Connor's reach, away from the hand, towards his undead brother, and more and more sobs escaped his mouth.

Daryl was actually weeping.

When Connor saw how his friend stumbled away from his hand and further towards Merle his heart skipped a beat. _He was going to get himself killed!_

"Daryl.." he said and tried to grab his friend's shoulder once more, and he was actually surprised how broken his own voice sounded.

Daryl suddenly darted even further towards his brother and yelled "No!" while shoving Merle away to keep him from coming at them.

This seemed to anger the undead Dixon, because he let out a loud growl and came right at Daryl again, which made Connor grab his knife in horror.

"Don't!" he exclaimed and wanted to stab Merle, but Daryl was already on his brother.

He ran right at him and shoved him to the ground, which shocked Connor so much that he could just stand there and watch. For a second he thought that Merle had bit his younger half's arm because of that shove, but the Irishman couldn't catch a glimpse because his friend absolutely lost it then. The noises he made were no longer the sounds of crying but pure anger, and then Merle's loud growls stopped abruptly.

Because Daryl wouldn't stop stabbing his brother's head.  
Over and over again, making the most horrible angry grunting sounds Connor had ever heard in his life.

_This had to be a dream. A nightmare. This just couldn't be true._

His best friend was absolutely hysterical by now and just wouldn't stop stabbing his brother, who was long since dead by now. And because the whole scenario was so gruesome, so incredibly different to what had happened to him with his own brother Connor was finally snapped out of his shock. Now he was painfully aware of what was happening, now he was painfully aware that this was reality and that it was on him to act rational here.

He heard the sick crunching and smacking of Daryl's knife every single time it connected with Merle's head.  
The older Dixon's face was unrecognizable by now, like his brother was trying everything to make it look like it wasn't him.

Connor finally started walking and approached his friend, who was still grunting and panting with every stab.  
He reached out for his shoulder and swallowed hard, and when he finally put his hand on Daryl's back the whole thing took a downturn.

Daryl suddenly turned around and swung his knife around, cutting Connor's cheek but not too badly. Before he got the chance to hurt the Irishman even more in his craze Connor had already grabbed his wrist and twisted it, which forced Daryl to drop it. But the hunter was far from calming down, because then he grabbed the blonde by his shirt and tried anything to throw him to the ground with terrifying growls and screams. Connor landed on his knees but would not fall on his back, no matter how hard Daryl tried to force him to the ground. He wouldn't say anything though, he let his friend rage against him while still trying to calm him down with his sheer presence, and soon Daryl would start yelling at him as loud as he could.

"This is all your fault!" he yelled as he buried his fists in the Irishman's chest with every punch, and although it hurt Connor he still stayed strong.

Because he knew that his friend needed this.

"You killed him! He's dead! _He's dead_ " the hunter kept yelling and repeated it over and over again, until he was so exhausted that he couldn't do it anymore. A violent sob eventually escaped his mouth and then he finally collapsed against the Irishman. He was absolutely falling apart and crying and weeping like he had never done before, and although Connor felt like bawling himself because he had to look at Merle's corpse the entire time he still stayed strong for the both of them. He finally wrapped both his arms around his friend as tightly as he could, knowing that Daryl's rage was over, that now there was just grief and utter utter heartbreak. And although the hunter's face was buried in Connor's shoulder his violent sobs still echoed through the surrounding woods.


	55. Burial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

"Did you do it?"

Connor turned his head and looked at his friend with a confused frown. They were both still sitting on the grass by the car, staring at the bloody corpse of Merle Dixon. It had taken Daryl a while to calm down from his crying fit. Now he was just sitting there, an unreadable expression his face as he kept staring at his dead brother.

"Did I do what?" Connor asked back and wouldn't stop looking at Daryl.

They both looked absolutely horrible.  
They were both physically and emotionally drained, and there was blood everywhere.

"Did you shoot him?" Daryl asked then and finally turned his head to look at his friend as well.

Now there was no sort of affection or any sort of feelings that indicated their tight relationship or maybe even more, now the hunter just looked cold and emotionless.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Connor asked in utterly disbelief.

Daryl just stared back at him, cold as ice.

"You talked 'bout it more than once. And you tried t'do it more than once. When yah threw the knife at him? When you two got into a fight over your stupid picture? Ever since he came back yah did everything just cos this stupid jealousy of yours. You swore you'd kill him just a couple'a days ago. So now that I was gone, did yah finally do it? Yah wanna make it look like an accident?"

Connor stared back at his friend for a very long time, anger and hurt written all over his face.

"I cannot fuckin believe that yer actually suggesting this."

Daryl just turned his head and looked back at Merle's corpse.  
Connor shook his head and gritted his teeth.

"I would've...no I _have_ done everything I fucking could, alright?! We was sapposed ta go over there t'gether. We were gonna shoot that fucker together and I would've made sure that no one could shoot his ass. I would've died saving his ass fer you and you fucking know that! Fuck, even after he locked me up in that motel room with all those walkers I still went after him ta save his ass and I drove like fuckin hell t'get him back ta Hershel in time. So don't you fucking _dare_ suggest I fucking killed him!"

"I'm just so fucking angry, alright? My brother just died!" Daryl yelled back and got back on his feet.

He started walking in circles and then went for the car, and after staring at it for a good minute he suddenly started kicking and punching it.

"I mean he's Merle! Nothing can kill him! Nothing! I just got him back and THIS CAN'T. BE. IT! HE. CAN'T. BE. DEAD!" he suddenly started yelling and kept kicking and punching the car door and window with every word, and that so hard that Connor actually feared his friend could break his bones.

Connor got back on his feet as well and rushed for his friend to grab him by his shoulders and pull him away from the car. It looked like the younger Dixon was about to have yet another nervous breakdown because of his brother's death, and although there were two shaky and abrupt loud breaths he actually managed to stop himself from having another crying fit.

"It's okay, brother. It's okay, alright? I'm still here. We'll..we'll get this.." Connor muttered but Daryl snorted loudly and shoved his friend away.

"Yeah of course, still got _you_. Just like you always wanted you selfish bastard. Fuck off" he growled and walked away.

Connor bit his lower lip and put both his hands on his hips. For a second he raised his head and looked up at the sky, then he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. _Great. It was exactly like how he had pictured it._ As if he didn't blame himself for tons of shit already. Now there was another death added to his list. _Oh he was so going to hell for all this crap._

 _Thanks, god. Thanks a lot,_ he thought, because once again he couldn't fight the feeling that the whole still being on earth thing was god's way of punishing for his twin's death.

"Look, I'm so fucking sorry man, I really am" he croaked and looked at Daryl again.

"What else do ye want me ta do? Jump off a cliff and ask God ta bring yer brother back instead? Fine, cos I would fucking do that fer you if I could. _I_ would _die_. To get you yer brother back. I really fucking would, alright? But I can't, and right now I seriously don't know what te fuck I'm sapposed ta do to make it right."

Daryl turned around and looked back at Connor. The Irishman was standing there in front of him, all miserable and bloody and exhausted and just plain tired. The hunter was furious, he was heartbroken, and whenever he had to face Merle's body he felt that all over again, the heartache, the fury, the disbelief. But he knew that Connor was right. There was nothing they could do. There was nothing the Irishman could do. And deep down he knew that it wasn't his friend's fault at all. But right now he didn't want to listen to the voice of reason, he wanted to rage against the world, yell at someone, punch someone, kill someone because this was so so _unfair_ and it hurt so - _so-_ much that he just wanted to let go of his emotions for a second. And Connor happened to be the only person around to who he could do it at the moment.

He gritted his teeth, pressed his lips together and clenched his fists as he tried to calm down. This wasn't the farm anymore, and this wasn't their old relationship anymore. Connor wasn't some sort of toy he could use to let go of his emotions and anger, he was his friend and he knew that the blonde was too fucked already anyway. And there was no need to add up to that. He took a deep breath and rested his eyes on his brother's body. Now he was just angry at Merle, now he just wanted him to disappear instead of Connor.

"Let's just take 'im and get away from here" he growled and then headed for the bloody corpse.

* * *

He wouldn't let Connor drive anymore. For one because his friend was physically even more screwed than him, but also because he wanted to be in charge of their next plans, he wanted to decide where they headed next. Thousands of emotions were still raging through him as they sped down the road. He would look in the rearview mirror every once in a while, to look at where he and Connor had put Merle's body. They didn't have anything to cover the battered corpse. All Daryl had been able to do was put his red rag on his brother's face to hide the mess, the shame, to hide what he had done to his _own brother_.

He regretted having stabbed Merle so many times now. His siblings face was unrecognizable, all he had left were his memories. And for the first time he understood why Connor had freaked out so much when the picture of Murphy's face had been destroyed. Suddenly it was so incredibly hard to remember Merle's face, his mannerisms, everything that had made him his big brother. He couldn't even remember the very last time he had seen his face as it was, the last time he had seen the color of his eyes and all that sentimental crap you never really paid attention to and never really thought about until it was gone. From one second to the next. _It had happened so. fucking. fast._ Just like that. Just a couple hours ago he and Merle had been talking.

He felt another big lump in his throat as he replayed their last conversation in his head over and over again _._

 _I just want my brother back_ , that's what he'd told him.

_Why did he have to say something like this to him? Merle had already been there._  
He should've told him how much he mattered to him.  
He should've told him how happy he was that he was back after everything that had happened in Atlanta.  
He should've told him how much he admired him. 

_He should've should've should've._

He shouldn't have said that at all.

Because now he felt like Merle had died regretting his choice of words during their last conversation, he just knew it.

 _Disgusting,_ that had been the last word Merle had said to him.

Although the younger Dixon knew that he had not meant it. He knew that Merle had really loved him as his baby brother. But still.  
Everything had happened so fast.

_Too fast._  
Poof. Gone. Just like that.  
Too soon.  
Too fucking soon. 

Daryl swallowed hard and stopped looking at his brother's bloody corpse. They had just reached the crossroads that would either lead them back to the prison or somewhere else, to Griffin, to that godforsaken place where they had come across the cannibals just a couple of weeks earlier. The hunter hit the breaks and slowed the car down until it came to a halt right in the middle of the crossroads. He could sense how Connor suddenly shifted next to him and had a look around, confusion written all over his face. The Irishman had not said one single word ever since they had left the place where Merle had died. He had not apologized, he had not said anything. He just looked defeated, and almost as upset as Daryl.

But it was different with the hunter now. He was far from upset, and he was far from feeling defeated. No. All this would have to wait until later. He needed to end this in a whole different way now. He grabbed the steering wheel with both his hands and stared straight ahead, lost in thoughts. Then, after thinking about it for a moment he turned their car to the left, away from the prison, towards Griffin.

"What..where are we going?" Connor muttered and sat up straight with a confused frown.

Daryl accelerated and then sped down the road that led away from the prison.  
He looked in the rearview mirror again and swallowed hard, the expression on his face still unreadable as if he was made of stone.

"There's something I gotta do" he muttered and drove faster, because he wanted this to get done with as soon as possible.  
He was getting sick of seeing his brother so broken, so battered, so dishonoured, so dead.

"I ain't gonna bury him behind fences, and I ain't gonna bury him anywhere close to a prison. He spent half his life behind bars and fences.  
He would hate being buried there."

* * *

They found the church after driving around for more than one hour. They could still make out the makeshift grave on the hill where they had buried the girl. Connor was actually surprised that Daryl really wanted to do this, bury his brother so far away from their home. But this was what his friend wanted to do so he said nothing. They dug the grave together after searching the nearby graveyard for a shovel, and Connor still couldn't help but feel uneasy whenever he got close to Daryl or Merle's body. He felt so terribly, terribly sorry. For everything. He had really wanted to make this right. So much. He had never wanted Merle to die, and he knew that now.

Of course. He had been jealous, he had hated that bastard and the older Dixon had really been a violent asshole, but he knew evil people when he saw them. And when they had this conversation about Daryl and everything they would do to keep the younger Dixon save, Connor had understood that deep deep down Merle Dixon had never been truly evil. And no matter how many people he had killed because of their deeds and no matter what Merle had done, he still believed in redemption. He still believed in forgiveness.

_Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much.  
If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us._

Everyone did wrong in their life. Him. Merle. What made sins unforgiveable was when people felt no remorse committing them, when they were emotionless and cold about committing them, when they didn't feel a thing and when they didn't have a conscience. But Merle had not been like that. There had been true emotion inside him, there had been remorse, there had been regret, there had been sadness, there had been love for his brother.   
  
Certainly not every shady bastard deserved to be forgiven, but after seeing and hearing all this he thought that Merle Dixon had been one of the very few people who would have deserved forgiveness. He would've deserved to redeem himself. Especially because he had been Daryl's brother and he knew how much his friend had needed his older sibling. Connor knew that deep down he never would've killed Merle Dixon. He would have tried to make him better. To make him worthy enough to be Daryl's brother. And now it was too late.

They kept digging the hole for quite a while and Daryl insisted that he was going to carry Merle's body inside the grave himself.  
Connor just stood there and watched, face covered with sweat, dirt and blood after all the mess that had happened today.

And as Daryl clung to his brother's body it almost looked like he was going to cry again, but the whole dragging and positioning the body inside the grave was so exhausting and difficult that he had no time for doing any such thing. He headed for the end of the grave and reached out so Connor could pull him back up, and once they were done with the whole thing both men just stood in front of the empty grave and stared at Merle's body. They didn't say or do anything for a while, and they really appreciated that no walkers were around to disturb this very private moment. Connor swallowed hard as another wave of guilt rushed over him, and he still wouldn't really look Daryl in the eyes.

"'m so sorry about yer brother" he finally said, voice low, soft and even broken.

He really was sorry. So sorry that he couldn't even put words to it.  
Daryl wouldn't look at him either, but he could still feel that the hunter wasn't really mad at him.

"Ain't your fault" Daryl muttered after a while, which made the Irishman look at him.

He was actually surprised because of that remark, because just an hour ago the hunter had said something else.

"Know you dumbass just tried t'help. Save everybody. Save Merle."

Connor bit his lower lip and nodded gently.

"Aye" he murmured and Daryl sighed. He kept staring at his brother's corpse. Connor moved closer to his friend.

"Y'know, he tried t'do the same. He didn't lock me in that motel room because we got in a fight. He knew it was a suicide mission. He didn't want me ta die cos he knew how upset you were gonna be if ye lost both of us. He wanted ta keep me alive fer you. He knew it was gonna kill us and that there was little chance of surviving this. But he still did it. He went there all on his own. He told me that he was gonna make sure it was gonna keep the prison standing because you like it here. He did all of this just fer you. You know that?"

Daryl pressed his lips together and it was obvious that he was fighting tears.  
But he would not cry, he stayed strong and looked at Merle's body, and this time he didn't just look upset and angry, now he also looked a bit astonished.

"Merle never did nothing like that his whole life."

Connor nodded and put a hand on his shoulder to squeeze it gently.

"He might have done some fucked up things in his life, but he did die a hero if ye ask me."

Daryl turned his head to look at the blonde then, and just for a second he looked like a lost little kid, a little boy who had just lost his parents and really needed to hear something like this.

"And I really respect him fer that" Connor went on and nodded.  
  
Daryl nodded back after a moment and the Irishman let go of his shoulder with a gentle sigh.

"You wanna be on yer own?"

Daryl shook his head and then looked at the hole for a moment.  
Connor just stood there and waited for him to tell him what he was supposed to do now that he didn't want him gone.

"No, but there's something yah can do for me" he muttered and the Irishman nodded once more.

"Aye, sure" he said as he stepped closer to the grave and put his healthy hand in his jeans pocket.

"I wanna give Merle a proper burial. I want him t'be a free man. 's why I chose this hill so close to that church."

"What do ye want me ta do?"

Daryl chewed on his lips because he felt awkward all of a sudden. Awkward and incredibly upset.  
Part of him could almost hear Merle yell at him and call him a sentimental sissy and god knows what,  
but he also knew that his brother would've wanted this.

"People never really knew, but Merle really believed in god. Just like yah. I know, don't look like it, but he knew the bible, cover to back.  
I think when he was little he even went t'church every Sunday just t'run away from our parents."

There was a long pause as Daryl had to think about all sorts of childhood memories.  
Once again realisation hit him right in the face.

 _Oh god. His big brother was gone. Merle was just..Merle was_ **dead**.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Ain't no way 'm gonna give him any of that sentimental crap like a cross or something. He wouldn't want that. No, but he would've loved t'hear some of your..some of your bible..things. Hell I don't know, just..just say something for him?" Daryl muttered and then looked at his friend, knowing that Connor was even more religious than Merle had ever been. The Irishman actually looked surprised, because never in his life would he have expected something like this. But he could see that it was important to Daryl, so he had to do this.

"Of course. Of course.." he said and grabbed his rosary, trying to gather his thoughts on what he should say.

Daryl nodded but asked him to wait for a second longer, because he needed to get the bottle of whiskey he had found in the back of the car. Connor frowned when he saw it, but decided not to say anything to that. He waited for Daryl to come back, and once everything was settled he started praying for Merle Dixon, and he gave Daryl the funeral eulogy he needed so badly. Once he was done with the speech and they had successfully buried Merle Dixon underneath a heap of earth the younger Dixon suddenly opened the botlle of whiskey and took a long sip.

He then went over to the grave and stared at it for a while, and once again Connor couldn't read the expression on his face. He could only guess what was going through his friend's mind, because he knew all to well what it felt like to lose your brother. He was actually surprised and respected Daryl, considering how he was taking it a whole lot manlier than he had back in Boston, when he had been a quivering and bawling mess for days. But truth was that there was no comparison at all. Because he and Murphy had been completely different compared to Merle and Daryl, and although he hated to admit it: he himself was a whole lot weaker than his friend in that regard. The hunter kept staring at the grave with the bottle in his hand. He then saluted with the bottle, took another sip and gasped because the whiskey burned on his throat.

"Everything that's about t'happen's gonna be for you, bro" he then muttered and poured some whiskey on the grave, as if he was sharing it with Merle.

"This is gonna be for you" he repeated and stared at the puddle of whiskey for a while.

Connor finally stepped closer.

"So what do ye wanna do now?" he muttered, unsure if he was allowed to interrupt this very private moment or not.

Daryl turned around after a moment to look at Connor.  
The look on his face had changed drastically from one second to the next.  
Now he just looked furious, stone cold and simply dangerous.

" We're gonna break into Woodbury, and we're gonna kill that evil son of a bitch that killed my brother."


	56. Speed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting** : episode 14 " _Prey_ "

Now that he thought about it, he was actually glad that Connor was with him. Although he would rather kill the Governor himself in the most brutal way possible, and although he would love to take on Woodbury all on his own - he knew that this was impossible. Because he didn't have a clue, a plan, an idea.  
  
It wasn't like he couldn't do or plan things himself. He just prefered people telling him what to do, and he certainly liked it better when somebody else came up with a plan. Especially when what they were about to do was so incredibly dangerous. But it needed to be done, he wanted it to be done, he just wanted _revenge_. He still felt incredibly heartbroken and sad, but right now it was the rage inside him that dominated his entire being.

Merle was dead. Merle had been _killed_ _._  
He needed to murder someone for that. Actually _murder_.

He watched Connor, who was standing there, leaned against the engine hood of the car that was still parked close to the church.  
He had both his arms folded and was staring into the distance, his infamous thinker face right on.  
He still looked pale, dirty and bloody but that didn't seem to bother him.

"Can always go alone" Daryl muttered after a moment because Connor didn't come up with a decent plan fast enough.

The Irishman looked at him and snorted.

"And get yerself killed, too? You wish. No, if we're gonna kill that motherfucker we're gonna do it right and we're gonna do it my way."

Daryl stared back at his friend, eyes still piercing and ice cold because of the incredible hatred inside of him.  
He just wanted the Governor dead. He wanted everyone dead for that. And that as soon as possible.

"I get to kill him" he said and that wasn't a suggestion, it was a _fact_.

It looked like Connor didn't really like that idea. Of course he wanted to do it his way, with his stupid prayer and all that shit, but the Governor did not deserve to die like this. Not with a bullet to his head. No. He needed to die real slow. And no one would stop him from killing that son of a bitch however _he_ wanted.

"I don't even want yah in there with him. I just need yah t'get me inside."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"And you think it's gonna be that easy?"

"You told me!" Daryl snapped and shoved his friend against the car.

"You told me we'd get in there, sneak inside his apartment and kill him!"

"But that was before everything went ta hell, man! I was counting on at least two or three more days ta figure all this shit out, and I was counting on taking yer brother with us! With him it would've been so fuckin easy, he could've told us where the Governor's at, he could've told us about a shitton of hideouts and houses we'd have no.."

"But guess what, he's _dead_ , yah moron! My brother is dead because of your shitty ideas! Now get me inside! Cos if yah won't help me then I'm gonna go there myself!"

Connor stared back in surprise, and once again there was hurt and frustration written all over his face. He hated being blamed for Merle's death, no matter if the older Dixon had made the decision himself or not. The Irishman rubbed his chin awkwardly and got up to walk in circles. He moved his hand through his messy hair, brain rattling with thoughts and ideas.

"There's gotta be at least 20 people we need ta take out" Connor muttered and looked at his friend, who was just brooding and sat down on the engine hood with folded arms.

"All those sick fucks with guns that shot at us when we tried ta save Glenn and Maggie? And the people that attacked the prison when we came back? All those guards and everything, they're just out fer blood. We'll have ta kill them as well. Andrea told me that there's old people and kids there. We can't put those in the line of fire. We need ta separate the wheat from the chaff here. We can't blast in there like last time. We'll have ta be as quiet as possible. Kill one at a time."

"Fine. Let's get going then" Daryl growled and headed for the driver's door, but Connor grabbed him by his arm.

"Ye do know that we're most certainly gonna start te real war with this if we don't finish this properly? Cos if we ferget one slimy fuck over there they'll come back and shoot at us and wipe the prison off the map like they tried last time with te walkers and the truck. We can't just kill the Governor and think that's it. We need ta make sure Andrea takes over Woodbury. She told me that people respect her and that te majority doesn't even know about that sick fuck's twisted games."

Daryl growled and stared back at him. He didn't want to think about any of this. He just wanted the Governor dead.  
But he knew that Connor wasn't going to let go like that, so he nodded and sighed.

"Fine."

* * *

And once again there were speeding down the road, and this time they were heading for Woodbury. Connor still didn't really know how the fuck they were supposed to make this work, but he had a vague idea. They would have a -lot- to do today. They would have to sneak their way inside Woodbury, and before they even got to the Governor they would have to render their victims defenseless. Or at least as defenseless as this could get.  
  
Which meant slicing tires, breaching one of the walls for walkers to help them distract the guards, possibly setting the armory on fire and locating all their enemies and possible hideouts. Connor still firmly believed that it would be a suicide mission, and he hated to take Daryl with him, but he also knew that his friend needed to get his revenge, needed to get this done. They would have to put their lives at stakes to save the lives of the many others that were innocent in this war.

And truth was that he wanted to take that Governor out just as much as Daryl, because that bastard had nearly killed him as well when he had shoved that walker at him.

_Oh yes. This meant revenge. This meant war. No matter what._

He still wasn't allowed to drive, which made him feel uneasy. Ever since they had buried Merle Daryl looked so different, so unapproachable, so distant, so cold. So..murderous. He knew that look. This was the look a man had on his face when he thought that he had nothing to lose, because he had lost so much in just a blink of an eye. Connor knew what it meant. Daryl just wanted to kill now. And he seemed to take the grieving in a whole different direction than him when he had lost Murphy. Connor's grief had turned into aggression towards himself, his whole being suicidal and depressed for months. Daryl was heading for the murderous aggression towards others. Which was definitely not a good sign at all.

And he could really see and feel it now, the way the hunter was grabbing the steering wheel with his knuckles going white and his lips being nothing but a thin line. His eyes were nothing but piercing slits, his brows furrowed and every single muscle in his face was way too tense. They were still driving way too fast, and for a moment Connor actually thought that Daryl was about to screw his plan and crash right into the barricades of Woodbury.

"Daryl, look..why..why don't ye just slow down fer a bit, aye? They're not going anywhere" he muttered when his friend sped down a sharp bend and the car nearly drifted off the street.

The hunter wouldn't say anything, his eyes were still fixed on the road.  
Connor waited for a bit, hoping to get an answer, but his friend wouldn't react at all. He was in fact driving even faster now.

"Look, all 'm sayin is that yer way too stressed and upset right now ta be driving this car."

Daryl snorted and finally reacted.

"And you ain't? Look at yah, all crippled and bloody. I can drive this rust bucket just fine."

"Aye, so maybe 'm fuckin crippled, but I didn't just lose my brother, alright? Just slow te fuck down, ye'll end up gettin both of us killed before we even get ta fucking Woodbury!" Connor snapped and tried to get his friend to slow down a bit, but Daryl just ignored him.

"I said 'm fine" he growled and fixed his eyes on the road after giving his friend an angry glare.

Right then both men let out a surprised gasp as they saw a woman with blonde hair running right at their car. Daryl hit the breaks with full force, which threw both him and Connor out of their seats, with only the seatbelts keeping them from crashing right through the windshield.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Are ye trying ta fuckin kill us?!" Connor yelled when they finally came to a halt, because the abrupt stop reminded him way too much of his accident last year.

Daryl wouldn't listen to him though, as he stared at the woman for the second and then stormed out of the car. Connor finally turned his attention towards the person, only to widen his eyes in surprise as well. Standing there, panting and both hands rested on the hood of their car, was Andrea. Connor got out of the car as well and looked at her in shock.

"What te fuck? Andrea? What are ye doing here?!" he asked as he made his way to the front of the car.

Daryl walked around the other side and headed for the blonde woman as well.

"Where is he?!" he snapped and grabbed her by her shoulder.

"Your boyfriend killed my brother!" he spat and Andrea looked at him in surprise.

"Merle's dead? I'm...look.." she still could hardly speak because of the lack of air. It looked like she had been running for quite a while now.

"Why are ye out here on yer own? Without a car? What are ye running from?" Connor observed and then turned his head to look in the direction Andrea had come from, the road that lead to Woodbury.

"Please..we need..we need to get out of here. He's..coming" Andrea gasped as she suddenly walked past Daryl and made her way for the back door of the car.

"Who?" Connor asked with a frown and Daryl just glared at her, fury written all over his face.

"Phillip..he's..he's gonna kill me. Let's go! We need to warn Rick! They're gearing up for war, they're preparing the cars and weapons and he's set up a torture chamber for Michonne we just..we need to get out of here! Hurry!"

She entered the back of the car and Connor looked at Daryl with wide eyes.

"Jesus, we gotta warn them, man" the Irishman said and Daryl stared back at him, but once again he decided not to talk.

He headed for the driver's door and entered the car before his friend got the chance to suggest that he should be the one driving now.

Connor let out a frustrated sigh and then ran for the passenger door, so he could get inside the car before Daryl decided to drive off on his own. He had not even put both his feet inside the vehicle when his friend already went into reverse and spun the car around as fast as he could. The blonde was actually surprised that his friend wasn't being stubborn about their plan and actually seemed to head back to the prison now. And maybe this was a good thing, considering how incredibly erratic the hunter was right now. Connor turned his head to have a look at Andrea, who was sitting in the backseat, chest heaving and eyes open wide because of the shock and fear.

"Te fuck happened ta you? Did he do anything ta you?" he asked, confusion and concern written all over his face.

Andrea shook her head and kept staring back, as if she was still afraid of someone following them.

"No. Not yet. But he will. He wants to kill everyone. He wants Rick to hand Michonne over, but as soon as they get there he'll shoot everyone.  
He wants you all dead. We have to warn them. We need to get as far away from Woodbury as possible."

Connor frowned even more.

"And what's it with the torture chamber?"

Andrea swallowed hard and shook her head.

"He's sick. I saw how he prepared this creepy torture chair. He had all sorts of medical equipment there. Sick things.   
We need to get Mich away from him. We all need to get away from him."

"Jesus fuckin Christ, that guy's a complete nutter" Connor murmured and looked at Daryl with a worried look on his face.

"We was just about ta kill him ourselves. That fucker needs ta be taken out" the Irishman went on and then looked back at Andrea again.

"And I think you'd be a big help there, actually. I think we can really make my plan work now. We get our people outta the prison fer a while, sneak into Woodbury, you tell me where the Governor's at all the time and we can kill him together and take all the twisted people out. 'm sure ye know who's good and bad?"

Andrea widened her eyes and shook her head in surprise.

"What? No. I'm not going back there. We need to leave. Just go. Your prison's not worth it.  
This town is not worth all the bloodshed he's preparing the people for."

"Aye, but I'm sorry. We gotta take that fuck out, Andrea. I'm not te kinda person who runs away from sick fucks ta keep himself safe.  
He needs ta be controlled and taken out so he can't harm any more people than he's hurt or killed already."

Andrea was just staring back at him and shook her head.

"We can't.."

"Well, let's...let's just get ye back ta the prison and get our people out of the danger zone, aye? We can discuss that shit later."

Daryl, who had not said anything to the whole issue until now, looked in the rearview mirror so he could look Andrea in the eye.

"How many of 'em are followin us?" he asked and Andrea moved some hair out of her face.

"I'm pretty sure it's just Phillip. I saw him drive by in his car when I hid in the woods."

Daryl stared at her once more.

"Just him? Behind us?"

Andrea nodded.

"Yeah, I think he was going to run me over to keep me from getting back to you. You can't imagine how glad I am to see you guys."

Connor chuckled and looked at her as well.

"Aye, yer quite the lucky one. Could've been a whole lot worse. Guess we're all lucky today" he muttered when he remembered how he had not been bitten by all the walkers at the motel, but stopped smirking and regretted his choice of words immediately when he remembered what had happened after that.

"I mean...Well, not all of us" he said quietly and looked at Daryl as if he was trying to apologize, but once again his friend kept ignoring him. What he did instead and without a warning though, was hit the breaks one more time. He then placed a hand on the back of Connor's seat and had a look behind them as he tried to steer the car in reverse, away from the asphalted road and towards a small forest track between two large bushes.

"What te fuck are ye doing now?" Connor asked in surprise and looked at his friend with a confused frown.

"Daryl, we need to get to the prison" Andrea said as Daryl drove further back until they were squeezed right between the bushes and could only see the road right in front of them and the rest of the forest track behind them.

"Let me drive this car now, ye don't even know what yer fucking doing anymore" Connor complained and tried to grab the steering wheel, but Daryl grabbed him by both his forearms and stared his friend right in the eyes.

"Use your brain you stupid dumbass and get a hold of the situation right now."

Connor frowned even more and tried to free himself, but Daryl was holding him to tight and wouldn't stop glaring at him.

"Te fuck are ye talking about? 's what I'm saying to you! The situation is real fuckin screwed right now and we need ta get back to the group as soon as fuckin possible! Those people from Woodbury are heading right fer them! They're armed to their teeth and it would be ridiculous ta get in there right now. Andrea just told us, we need ta warn our people, they're gonna get slaughtered!"

"Daryl, they've got heavy armory, riot suits, bulletproof vests and all sorts of army equipment and they're going to use it soon if we don't warn Rick and the.."

"Dear Phillip is _all on his own. Right behind us._ And he thinks he's just chasing Andrea" Daryl interrupted her and kept staring at Connor, ignoring the woman who was still trying to reason with him.

And the Irishman finally understood what his friend was aiming at.  
He widened his eyes and opened his mouth to form a surprised and satisfied _oh_.

"Jesus, this is _Christmas_. You clever fuckin bastard you."

Daryl grinned, but the grin was far from friendly or happy. No, this was an evil, twisted and bloodthirsty grin, and for the first time he actually really looked like a killer who was just about to murder somebody.

"What are you talking about?" Andrea asked and interrupted their intense staredown as both men came to the conclusion on what they could do in a minute.

A couple of seconds later she finally seemed to understand as well.

"No, you can't..killing him won't change a thing. Martinez will just take over, it won't end it, we're just wasting time here. I think we should..."

Right then the loud roaring of the engine of a pickup interrupted Andrea mid sentence. Daryl raised his finger in the air to stop Connor and Andrea from talking with a loud "SHH!". Everyone inside the car froze and held their breath for what felt like eternity. Then a white pickup truck sped past their hideout, away from Woodbury, down the street and towards the prison.

"Looks like our guest of honor arrived" Daryl grunted as he started the engine of their car and hit the accelerator as hard and fast as he could.

"Daryl, don't!" Andrea pleaded, but it was already too late. They were speeding down the forest track, back to the road to follow the Governor.


	57. Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 14 " _Prey_ "

"And how exactly do ye plan ta do this?" Connor yelled because the roaring of the engine of their car was way too loud.  
  
Daryl was now speeding down the road, out of the woods, entering a wide free space with nothing but fields around them. They could see the Governor's car right in front of them, moving to the left and right as if trying to make it impossible for them to pass him. Although they were in cars and speeding like madmen Connor had to realize that this really wasn't like in all the action movies he had seen at all. This was real, this was dangerous, this was..suicidal. Because they street was neither straight nor even. There were bends, there were holes and with every single bump the car shook and lurched violently, tires screeching and Connor and Andrea nearly losing their balance.

"Stop this car! Just stop this!" Andrea yelled from behind them as Connor kept staring at his friend, who seemed to have zoned out completely. He was staring at the back of the Governor's car with a face like it was made of stone.

"Daryl!" Connor yelled but did not dare grabbing his friend's hand right now, because in the end they might lose control over their car completely.

Connor turned his head to see what the Governor was doing. There was no way to hide on this road, no way to turn around or stop driving. That bastard was forced to keep going and he knew it, and Connor was pretty sure that even if he decided to stop, Daryl was actually willing to hit him with their car at full speed. Because right now it looked like his friend thought he was invincible, like his hate and grief would make it impossible for him to actually die in a silly thing like a car crash. Especially since there were dead people walking around. But Connor knew how dangerous a car crash could be because he had experienced it himself last year, and there was no way he was EVER going to get stuck in a car with a piece of glass in his thigh again.

He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate, since he knew that he was pretty much the only person inside this car who could do something about the whole situation right now. They were speeding down the road and got closer and closer to the white pickup truck in front of them, and it really looked like Daryl was going to drive against it if need be. But just like Connor had already realized before: this wasn't an action movie, this was real, and something like that could easily get them killed.

He cursed and then turned his head to take a look at the window, only to shake his head with a snort. Here he had the absolute proof that this wasn't an action movie: the fucking car didn't even have electric window lifts. He had to wind it down by hand. _Fucking perfect._ The Irishman lowered the window as fast as he could and then risked a look outside, but once again he got frustrated by the -not-an-action-movie thing. They were driving so fast that it was almost impossible to stick his face out of the window, because there was so much wind screaming in his ears and he could hardly keep his eyes open.

He put his head back inside the car and took a deep breath, because breathing out there wasn't that easy either. But he did come to the conclusion that this was the only way to get the Governor off the street with them being relatively safe, and yes, screw you, he had seen that in a whole bunch of movies. And although the whole thing was so incredibly stupid, dangerous and crazy he still couldn't help but feel excited by the fact that he was really going to do _that_.

"Get as close ta him as ye can possibly get, stay on the left side of the road and lemme do all the work" Connor said and then freed himself from the seatbelt, which made Andrea panic even more.

"What the hell are you doing? This is suicide, just stop this! Both of you!" she yelled, but both men ignored her.

They were only about a car length away from the Governor when Connor finally decided to get outside the car as far as he could. It was incredibly windy, like he was in the middle of a hurricane, and the fact that Daryl was driving even faster now didn't help. He could hardly keep his balance and put his legs in a weird angle to keep himself inside the car, since he couldn't really use his broken left hand to hold on to the moving vehicle. He had his loaded Beretta in his right hand and took aim at one of the wheels, which was rather hard to do so since he could hardly see them and the cars were freaking _moving_.

He took aim and fired the first shot but failed miserably. He didn't even hit the car but the asphalt, and Connor let out a frustrated sigh because of that. Two decades of training and shooting mobsters, but he wasn't fucking prepared for something like _this_. He didn't want to waste too much ammo but at the same time wanted to get that evil bastard off the street so he took aim and shot again, but the second bullet missed its target as well.

_Christ._

_This really wasn't like in those movies at all. Where was the fun in that?_

The car suddenly moved and lurched again and the Irishman nearly lost his balance. He took aim once more but both cars and his hands were simply moving too much. He knew he could fire the whole magazine at the car and still wouldn't make a dent, and although he did manage to break the window he still could no longer keep himself upright. Not with that shoulder, and certainly not with this kind of wind. He could also feel how somebody grabbed his leg and started pulling like a madman, and although they were screaming at him he couldn't understand a single word.

"What?!" he shouted back and finally climbed back inside, ears ringing from the wind and gunshots.

"I said get your ass back in here!" Daryl yelled and pulled his leg again until Connor sat back down, hair sticking straight up in a complete mess from all the wind.

"Jesus fuckin Christ tha looked a whole lot simpler in fuckin Rookie!"

"What?" both Andrea and Daryl asked at the same time and Connor growled as he wound the window back up.

"I said Clint Eastwood made car chases look so fuckin simple in Rookie!" he yelled and then pouted, because once a-fucking-gain his movie plans did not work.

"I got a better idea" Daryl growled and then sped their car up again, which made Connor grab the door so he wouldn't lose his balance.

"What te fuck are ye..?"

But it was already too late. They were now driving right next to the Governor, who turned his head and glared at them with his mad remaining eye, and before they could react he had already pulled the gun and aimed it right at the Irishman's head.

"Watch out!" Andrea yelled from behind them and Connor threw himself forward, just split seconds before the bullet hit the window.

And once again they were reminded that this wasn't an action movie, because the window would not break into pieces and rain down on them in a dramatic matter. It just broke into thousands of thin lines and splinters but stayed where it was, which made it impossible for them to look outside now. The Governor could be pointing a gun at them again and they wouldn't even know. Connor raised his head with a surprised gasp and then had a look around to see if everyone was okay. He could see that the bullet had missed Daryl by just a couple of inches and was now stuck in the upholstery of the driver's seat.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, fuck that, yer gonna kill all of us, man!" Connor yelled at his friend and tried to talk him into slowing down so they were no longer in the line of fire.

Daryl suddenly pressed his lips together and frowned angrily, and it really looked like he was about to explode.

"No" he just growled and then suddenly yanked the steering wheel to the right, causing their car to crash right into the Governor's. They hit the far end of the pickup and caused it to fishtail and spin violently because of the speed and sudden force. Daryl then instantly hit the breaks but could no longer control their car either.   
  
  
  
Just for a second before their own crash they could see how the Governor lost control over his car completely. It spun out of control and then hit a sign next to the road, which caused it to drift to the side and then made it turn over multiple times. After spinning and screeching and turning the demolished vehicle landed about 100 feet down the field next to the street, smoke coming from the engine compartment.

Neither Daryl nor Connor and Andrea could cheer though, because right then their car spun out of control as well.

"Keep it steady! Keep it steady, hold the fuckin wheel!" Connor yelled and then launched himself at Daryl to grab the wheel as well, but the car kept spinning and screeching until they nearly did the exact same movement as the Governor's car. But they were too far ahead already, heading right for the next part of the woods where only a tree could stop the spinning car from turning over. With a horrible loud crash and the sound of bursting metal the right backside of the car connected with the tree and that so violently that both Connor and Andrea hit their heads hard on the windows, knocking the woman out completely and making the Irishman dizzy like hell.

For a second no one knew what was going on.  
They couldn't hear or see anything because of the shock from the car crash, their hearts still pounding in their heaving chests.

"Oh, fuck me" Connor muttered and then rubbed his head, and he was actually surprised that it wasn't bloody or burst open.

It just hurt and his ears were still ringing, and the whole world wouldn't stop spinning.  
He believed to smell smoke and fuel, but that didn't matter because his neck freaking hurt from the impact.

"I told ye te fuckin slow down" he mumbled and finally managed to open his eyes again, only to see how Daryl opened the door and stumbled out of the car with an awkward cough.

"Daryl!" he yelled and tried to go after his friend, but of course, his side wouldn't open because they were glued to a tree and the whole body was bent.

"Daryl, wait!" Connor yelled and tried to get out to run after Daryl, who was running away from their car and headed for the Governor's crashed vehicle.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" the Irishman muttered and coughed, and truth be told, he was shaky and shocked because of the crash.  
He was just about to climb out of the car through the door Daryl had left open, but then a gentle moan startled him and made him turn his head.

He could see Andrea in the back of their car, head rested against the window with her right temple bloody and hurt.  
It looked like she had been hurt the most during the car crash, because the tree had connected with the door right next to her.

"Fuck fuck fuck" Connor muttered as he watched his friend run down the street, and a second later Daryl disappeared to the right, down the field where the Governor was.

His mind was racing. It didn't look like Daryl was hurt too badly considering that he had been sitting on the left and could still run. His friend was normally his number one priority but he also knew that Andrea needed his help a whole lot more right now. He bit his lower lip so hard that it nearly bled because he was thinking so hard, but then came to the conclusion that he should stay with the woman first.  
  
He still awkwardly climbed out of the car and took a closer look at the damage for a second. The right side was pretty screwed but other than that it looked relatively okay. It could have been a whole lot worse if their car had managed to turn over or if they had hit the tree with their front. But still. Fucking cars. Ever since the apocalypse he hated those things almost as much as the walkers. He ripped the left back door of the car open and then climbed inside to get a better look at Andrea's injuries, and he prayed to god that she was alright.

* * *

Daryl was sprinting down the road, ignoring the fact that he had left his best friend and a member of their group in a crashed car. They were probably injured, but he figured that if Connor could still curse and yell at him then he would be fit enough to look after Andrea. They couldn't waste any more time than they already had. Because that Governor bastard was _close_. So freaking close he could almost smell him. Well he did smell something and that was smoke and fuel and burned rubber, but it was almost like he could smell blood, because this was what he was here for.  
  
There was one more thing he needed to do before he finally allowed himself to grief his brother's death, and that was to make sure he avenged his sibling's murder the proper way. He needed to kill the Governor. It was what Merle had tried to do and it was what Merle wanted him to finish. Daryl ignored the pain in his head from the impact and kept running, chest heaving and breathing loud and heavy. When he finally reached the scene of the Governor's accident he could see the wreck of the white pickup truck, which was lying there on its roof on the field. He let out a relieved gasp when he saw how the man tried to climb outside his crashed vehicle, clothes a complete mess, eyepatch off-center and face bloody from the accident.

The Governor widened his remaining eye and looked like he was trying to draw his gun, but Daryl was faster. He sprinted even faster and then kicked the man's face as hard as he could , giving him a satisfying groan from the Governor. Daryl then kicked the gun away and grabbed the Governor by his jacket to pull him outside the crashed car so he could lie him on the ground and get started. Their enemy was nothing but a coughing and groaning mess and it was obvious that he was pretty much hurt already, but there was no way the hunter was going to leave him be like that. He stared down at the bleeding man, lips nothing but a thin pale line and both of his bloody hands clenched to tight fist as he felt the anger grow inside him.

"Did you kill my brother?"

He asked and kicked the Governor, which made the man yelp and then look at him.

"No, no listen t'me. We can..."

"You did this! You killed him! You killed Merle!" Daryl yelled and kicked him with each sentence.

And as he kicked and stomped he tried to force the images back inside his head, although he hated to see them more than anything. But just for a second he _wanted_ to feel all that again, everything he had felt when he had seen Merle all bloody, everything he had felt when Merle had turned and staggered in his direction like he was one of _them_. If the Governor wasn't here then he would have started crying again because of the incredibly pain, but right now that sadness was turned into pure hatred, into pure disgust and murderous fury. He replayed that image of undead Merle inside his head like a broken record as he kept kicking and punching the Governor over and over again, until he was so ramped up that he finally had the guts to do what he wanted to do.

He grabbed his knife with both his hands and stared down at the Governor with an insane look on his face, and he was actually glad that his friends weren't with him right now. But his friends were exactly the reason _why_ he was here. He wasn't just here because of Merle's death, at least he tried to tell himself that. It was true though, as he replayed everything he had heard and seen, madness and frustration slowly eating him up.  
  
He remembered that this was the man who had sexually harassed Maggie, that this was the man who had shoved a walker at Connor and made him go through endless amounts of pain with the bite, the fever, the broken hand. He remembered that this was the man who had tried to force him into killing Merle, that this was the man who was ordering the people around who had shot Axel and Oscar, that this was the man who had kept his zombified daughter as a pet, who kept walker heads in an aquarium and who wanted to torture their new friend Michonne.   
  
But it was nothing compared to the one thing that made him ready to kill, and that was the fact that this man had shot his own brother in the stomach, that this was the man who had let his brother die slowly and then turn. And this was enough to make him snap, because this was exactly the same thing he was going to do to him.

"What was it? Fight to the death? Winner goes free? Well watch me fight, you sick bastard" Daryl snarled and then forced his bowie-knife down at such a sped that he wasn't even prepared for the Governor's reaction yet. When his bowie-knife entered the injured man's belly he started screaming like a madman, just like all the people he had heard screaming when they had been overpowered and ripped open by walkers. And as soon as he saw the first thin lines of blood soak the Governor's shirt on the exact same spot where Merle had been shot he suddenly couldn't help but do it again. And again.   
  
More and more screams could be heard that got louder and more insane with every stab. And this time Daryl stabbed the man just like he had stabbed his own brother's undead corpse, and when he felt the hot blood drain the knees of his jeans and his hands he couldn't stop anymore. He didn't want to kill the Governor right away, which he was why he was aiming for the exact same spot over and over again. And right now he thanked his skills as a hunter, because he knew exactly where to aim and what to do to make it last longer.

No, he didn't want to kill that son of a bitch.  
He wanted him to suffer. Die slowly. And turn.

* * *

Andrea was conscious again, which was definitely a good sigh. Connor had carried her outside the car and put her on the road next to it so he could take a better look at the injuries in broad daylight. He didn't know much about doctor's stuff but enough to tell that she had a slight concussion and a nasty laceration, but it could have been worse. It could have been worse for all of them, that's what he couldn't stop thinking about now that they had made it.   
  
He remembered all the bad accidents he had seen on roads, with burning cars, crashed airplanes and jumbojets and all sorts of wrecks, and their car looked new compared to that. And they were neither dead nor fatally injured, which would have to do nowadays. He helped a groaning and moaning Andrea up when she was fully with him again and let out a gentle chuckle when she blinked a few times and then looked at him.

"Connor?"

The Irishman nodded eagerly and used one of the old bandages he had found in the car's medkit (it did have one!) to clean the bloody wound on her temple as good as he could.

"Aye. Steady now. We had a little accident and you hit yer head pretty hard."

Andrea moaned once more and then placed a finger on her bleeding temple with a gentle hiss.

"What...what about Daryl? And Phillip?"

Connor turned the bandage around and used the clean side to wipe the rest of the blood away.

"Nah, Daryl's fine. He's a tough one tha is. And Phillip? Not so much I hope."

"What about the car? Can.. we still use it?"

The Irishman looked up and took a closer look at the black vehicle.

"I dunno, we'll have ta wait and see, maybe we can..."

A loud and terrifying scream startled the both of them then. A few seconds passed, then there was another loud scream, and this time it wouldn't stop. It sounded like someone was being eaten alive by walkers. Both Connor and Andrea looked in the direction the noise was coming from, then the Irishman dropped everything, grabbed his gun and got back on his feet.

"Daryl!" he yelled and started running as fast as he could, ignoring the fact that he couldn't run for too long because of his screwed up muscle from his last car accident.

He had only made it half way down the street when the screaming suddenly stopped, and his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he feared he might lose it on his way there. _What if this had been Daryl getting attacked by walkers? Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck. He shouldn't have let him go there alone. No no no no no. He couldn't lose Daryl. Not Daryl. Not after everything. No no no no no._  
  
He ran even faster and ignored that his whole body was burning with nothing but pain. When he finally reached the crashed pickup truck he was completely out of breath already, with Andrea right behind him. For a second he couldn't see anything, but when he walked up the hill he could finally see his friend, who was walking in their direction, hands and face all bloody.

"Daryl! Are ye okay?" Connor yelled and came to an abrupt halt, and for a second it felt like his heart decided to stop as well. Daryl was casually walking in their direction, bloody knife in his one hand, other hand in his pocket. When he saw Connor he started smiling, and the Irishman was actually surprised to see relief that was written all over his friend's face rather than hatred and grief.   
  
It really looked and felt like something had left his being, something dark, something scary. It was definitely gone. Now it was just Daryl. Crazy bloody Daryl, but not murderous Daryl. Just Daryl, his friend, and he was perfectly healthy by the looks of it. Which meant only one thing...Connor remembered the screams and then look at his friend's bloody hands and clothes.

"Tha fucker dead?" he muttered and Daryl stopped walking.

There was a long pause and it looked like he was thinking about something, but then the hunter nodded and wiped his nose.

"Yeah."

Connor smirked.

"Well, makes it one probl..."

A loud bang startled all three members of the prison group, and it took Connor a moment to process that it had been a gunshot.

"Te fuck?!" he yelled and ducked down, but it looked like nothing had happened.

He frowned and then turned around to look at Andrea.

"Was that you?!" the woman shook her head and raised both her hands in the air.

When Connor turned his head again to ask his friend his blood ran cold. Daryl was still standing there right in front of him, but this time he was pressing a hand to his chest and stared down on himself in disbelief. A second later a red spot was forming underneath his hand, and it was getting bigger and running down his blue shirt with every second that passed. Then the surprised gasp finally escaped his mouth, revealing even more blood.

"No..no..NO!" Connor yelled and started running to catch his friend just when he was about to fall to the ground. Both men fell to their knees and Connor looked down on his friend in utter shock, and when he wrapped an arm around his back and felt it with his hand he could feel the damp bloody spot just underneath Daryl's right shoulder blade.

"NO!" he yelled once more and as loud as he could, and when he raised his head to see where the shot had come from he could see the Governor lying there, gurgling and covered in blood, but with a gun lying by his shaking and twitching hands. Andrea was already running past them and headed for the man, and only a tiny part of Connor was aware of that he was actually watching how she finally _finally_ shot that bastard in the head and killed him. But nothing mattered anymore, because now he could feel his friend cough and shake against him, and soon he could feel how the sticky fluid drained both their shirts.

"NO!" he kept yelling and pressed his hand as tightly against Daryl's gunshot wound as he could, because he needed to stop the bleeding, because the blood needed to be inside his friend and not outside, because this was so so _wrong_.


	58. Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

"GET TE CAR! GET THE FUCKING CAR!" Connor yelled and looked at Andrea in panic.

The blonde woman had just been about to get to them so she could help, but Connor knew that they couldn't waste any more time on any of that crap. They needed to get Daryl away from here. As soon as possible. Not only because his friend had been shot and was dying, but also because he could already see that walkers were approaching them because of the gunshot and screaming.

"DO IT! RUN!" the Irishman yelled and grabbed Andrea by her jeans to shove her towards the street, and after staring at Daryl and all the blood for a moment longer she finally did as she was told.

For a second the older of the two friends panicked completely. He felt Daryl's back once more and let out a couple of shaky breaths because of the shock. Connor tried to lie the hunter down as slowly and carefully as he could, knowing that one wrong movement could make everything worse. Daryl was still yelping and moaning in pain and tried to fight his friend's hands when the Irishman grabbed his shirt and ripped it open to get a better look at the injury.

There was blood. A lot of blood. It looked like the bullet had gone right through and it had ripped a hole in Daryl's chest. The red and sticky fluid kept oozing out of the wound and now that the shirt no longer held it back it was running down the hunter's pale chest. For a second Connor's mind went blank and he was unable to move.   
  
Even after one year it was like a punch in his face, a violent reminder of what had happened to his brother. And once again there was blood on his hands and he was trying so hard to stop it while a person he really loved was freaking _dying_.

_This couldn't be happening again._

_No._

_This -wouldn't- happen again._

Determination rushed over him, and then he was back on track, trying to take a rational approach rather than an emotional one this time.

"Alright, brother. I'm gonna put ye back together. I need you t'listen to me and do as I say, aye?" he stuttered and then placed his bloody hand on Daryl's neck and cheek to make him look at him. The look on his friend's face nearly made his heart miss a beat. Because for the first time Daryl Dixon actually looked _scared_. But the hunter still nodded eagerly, despite all the blood and pain.

Connor nodded back and then freed him from his ripped shirt, leather jacket and wing vest.

"'m gonna apply pressure t'yer chest, but you gotta tell me if you can't breathe, alright?"

Daryl nodded once more and started coughing whereas the Irishman tried to twirl his shirt a couple of times so he could use it as temporary bandage.

"Can ye breathe right now?" the blonde went on and then grabbed his friend by his uninjured bare shoulder when he noticed that the hunter's eyes rolled back for a moment.

"Daryl! Come on, stay with me, can ye breathe?!"

The younger of the two stopped rolling his eyes and then looked back at him with an eager nod.  
He suddenly grabbed Connor by his arm and tried to get up, but his friend forced him to lie low.

"I don't...I don't wanna..I ain't gonna die" Daryl growled with an extremely low and shaky voice and coughed once more, and this time there were several droplets of blood running down his chin.

"Well, of course you ain't gonna die, ye hear me?" Connor answered and pulled the shirt as hard as he could after wrapping it around his friend's chest to slow the bleeding down. A pain-filled yelp escaped Daryl's mouth because of the sudden pressure and the Irishman looked at him with a very worried look on his face. The shirt was slowly getting soaked with blood.   
  
_Where the fuck was Andrea with the car?_  
  
Connor turned around and looked up to see if she was on her way. He didn't see the black car, but his eyes met something else instead:  
Four walkers were staggering in their direction, and there were even more coming from the other side of the field.

"Oh shit shit shit" the Irishman muttered and then looked back at Daryl, who was in pure agony and half-unconscious already.

"You're not allowed ta die, you understand?!" he yelled and pointed a finger at him. He checked the temporary bandage, and once he had made sure that it was tight and kept the blood inside he lifted his friend's head and chest a bit, so he could put his vest and jacket back on. Daryl's body temperature was already dropping because of the blood loss and shock, and the Irishman knew that it was important to keep the hunter warm.  
  
If the blood loss didn't kill him then the shock certainly could, and there was no way he was going to let that happen.  
He cursed himself for not taking his own jacket with him so he could put it on top of his friend as well, but the vest and leather jacket would have to do for now.

"Be right back, brother" he muttered and then got back on his feet, just in time to keep a female walker from kneeling down and attacking Daryl.

"Leave 'im alone you dead bitch!" he yelled and killed her with a stab to her jaw, impaling her head on the blade.

He knew that they had made too much noise already anyway so he decided to use his gun as well. He pulled the blade out of the walker's head and then quickly replaced the knife with his Beretta. He used it to shoot all the nearby walkers that were walking down the street. Once that was clear he ran down the hill and nearly stumbled on the hot asphalt. He could see Andrea by the car just by the place where they had crashed, and the blonde woman seemed to be fighting walkers as well.

"ANDREA! HURRY!" he yelled as loud as he could, his throat aching because of the intensity and volume. He could see how she looked up but then started stabbing and shooting walkers herself, and the Irishman knew that if she kept going like this she was going to get overwhelmed and the car would be going nowhere.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck" he gasped and yanked his messy hair in panic.

He knew it was dangerous and stupid to move Daryl too much with this sort of injury, but they really needed to get out of here.  
 _Everything was happening so ridiculously fast that it just couldn't be true, could it?_

_He couldn't lose both Dixon brothers on the same day._

That was it. He was never ever going to plan shit again. His plans really did get people killed all the time, and it really wasn't fun anymore.  
Yes, he needed to use his brain and be the head of the whole thing one more time to get this solved, but after that he was going to fucking quit.

He ran back up the hill to get back to Daryl only to widen his eyes in shock. Two walkers had managed to make their way past the Governor's crashed pick-up and were now feeding on his corpse, and another one was already staggering in Daryl's direction. His friend was just lying there, eyes closed, not moving.

"No no no no!" Connor yelled once more and started running, and just when the male walker was about to grab his friend he kicked the undead right in the face, sending him flying backwards with a sick crack. The hard upward kick had not only broken the walker's nose but also his neck. The undead could no longer move his limbs but was still growling and snarling, and Connor didn't waste a second and stomped his head as hard as he could while shooting the other two walkers by the Governor's corpse.  
  
Another female walker with extremely long dirty hair was thrown back against the wrecked pickup, with her brains getting splattered all over the white door. No matter how many walkers he killed, it seemed like more and more were already coming for them. Just the undead were coming, but no freaking car. He needed to do something.

He stared at bloody unmoving Daryl, mind racing, chest heaving, hands shaky.  
He then grabbed his rosary and squeezed his eyes shut.

_Please God, not him. Kill me, kill everyone else, I don't care. But please not him. Watch over him. Let him make it through._  
 _Please please please.After all the shit that's happened to me, I think you really owe me. I never stopped believing in you._  
 _So please please please._  
 _Not Daryl._

He crossed himself quickly and opened his eyes so he could get his friend. They needed to get out of here. Fast. He would have to carry Daryl and make run for it. No matter how screwed he was himself. Just before grabbing his friend he placed a shaky hand on his neck to make sure his heart was still pumping blood in his veins. He could feel the pulsating, but it was weak and getting weaker still.

_Fuck._

He grabbed his knife and looked up once more when he heard more groaning coming from behind the wrecked car.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Connor grabbed Daryl's jeans and then started cutting at the furthest end of the leg so he could get another piece of cloth he could use to tie his friend's hands together. This way he would make sure that when he was carrying his friend on his back he wouldn't lose grip of him, especially when there were walkers everywhere and he needed to shoot or stab them.

He heard more walkers coming and tied Daryl's hands as fast as possible, and just for a moment he cursed those things because no matter how immune he was, they still scared the crap out of him and made his heart beat faster. Part of him wished that he could just give some of his blood to Daryl, to make him invisible to them as well. For a second he actually considered it but knew that it was a stupid idea. He had no clue if they had the same blood type, and he was pretty sure that it wasn't going to do shit for them anyway.  
  
He now regretted that he had destroyed all of Milton's efforts back at Woodbury, because maybe they could've had a cure or vaccine by now to protect his friend. But of freaking-course there was no such thing, and those countless undead bastards were about to swarm them to a point where even he couldn't fight them all anymore. They were going to eat Daryl if they didn't get to the fucking car.

Once Connor had tied his friend's arms he grabbed him by his waist, careful not to hurt the hunter even more. He needed to keep him as steady as he could, which was quite hard to achieve because a) he had a broken hand and couldn't do shit with it b) his shoulder was just as screwed c) he needed to fight undead people every two minutes and d) Daryl was freaking _heavy_. Connor awkwardly adjusted their positions until he carried his friend on his back and threw his tied hands over his head so he could put them under his chin and around his neck. He tried to hold him steady with his broken hand although he couldn't move it, but he couldn't use his right because it was holding the gun.

After shooting another walker the Irishman started walking and then jogging, and although he was now carrying the weight of two men he still kept going, especially now that he could feel how Daryl's blood was sticking to the back of his shirt.

 _You owe me you sick bastard. Please don't let him die, please don't let him die. I cannot take another death,_ Connor thought as he started running faster and zigzagged his way across the street to avoid the countless walkers that were now staggering towards them from all directions. They were hardly faster than them and the blonde suspected that it was his friend's blood that made them go wild.

"ANDREA! GET IN THE CAR!" Connor yelled and tried to run faster but couldn't because he was so out of breath and absolutely exhausted.

He had tried to stay calm for a while now, but truth was that he was far from calm. Daryl was dying.  
His best friend was dying because once again he wasn't running fast enough.  
So many should-have's were going through his mind that it was driving him nuts.

_I shouldn't have let him go after that bastard on his own._  
I should've made him stop the car.  
I should've been the one driving the car.  
I shouldn't have let Merle die.  
I should've killed the Governor earlier.  
I shouldn't have left the cell today.  
I should've should've should've. 

A surprised yelp escaped his mouth when he felt how they were both being dragged back. Daryl's arms were strangling him because of the sudden pressure and then he heard his friend yelp in his ear, and within seconds the blonde understood what was going on. A walker had managed to grab his friend, maybe even close to his injury and tried to attack them from behind.

"NO! FUCK OFF!" he yelled and twirled them around, and that so fast that he was getting strangled even more and then nearly lost grip of the man on his back. As soon as Connor was facing the undead he let out a moan because the fool breath that escaped the woman's ripped mouth hit him right in the face, now that she was only inches away from him.

He knew that if he started fighting now they would get surrounded, so all he could do was kick her hard in the chest to make her fall to the ground. He nearly lost his balance because Daryl's weight kept pulling him back and his arms were still strangling him, and after hopping a couple of times and stumbling around he regained his balance and started running again. The car was so close now. He could see it, could see Andrea in front of it and how she was still trying to get inside whilst fighting all the walkers herself.

They were so _so_ close. He could feel Daryl's breath against his neck and the beating of his heart against his back. It was getting weaker and weaker, and there was more and more blood running down between them. He felt incredibly sick all of a sudden. He had never contemplated the idea of losing Daryl. Daryl was a fact, not a maybe. He was Daryl Dixon, and Daryl Dixon did not die. He was way too tough, and although it sounded fucking gay he had always considered him his rock.   
  
_He needed that bastard, didn't he get that?_ That was the man who had saved him, who had helped him out of his depression, who had kept him from dying over and over again. He wasn't allowed to die. Just like there had been no Connor without Murphy before there was no Connor without Daryl now. If his friend died then he would not survive that shit either. No. Daryl Dixon was life support. He was not allowed to die.

"Come on, stay with me, brother" he gasped and then placed both his right hand on his friend's tied arms to stroke them with his healthy thumb, trying anything to make it right.

Even now he could almost hear his friend grumble against him.

_Fuck off, that's gay yah moron._

"Who's gonna kick my ass fer all my shite plans otherwise?" he went on and adjusted Daryl's position once more, because it felt like the hunter was getting heavier with every second that passed.

After what felt like eternity he finally reached Andrea, who was currently being pressed against their car by two walkers as she tried to fight them off at once. Connor took aim at the undead's heads and although he knew that he could hit their friend as well he still pulled the trigger, hitting the first walker in the head and killing the other walker right next to him as well. It was a damn neat kill, and for a second the Irishman was pretty aware of that, but he had no time to cheer and tease, because another dangerous cough and groan behind him reminded him that Daryl was dying.

"Get inside the car!" the blonde demanded and glared at Andrea with wide eyes.

"Is he..?" the blonde woman asked but Connor would not let her speak it out.

_No Daryl wasn't dead. And he wasn't going to fucking die._

"No! Now get inside te car! In te back! Hurry! You gotta look after 'im!" he demanded and ripped the car door open.

He needed to stab another walker and watched how Andrea climbed inside the black vehicle, and when he turned around his eyes widened even more. It looked like a fucking small _herd_ was coming after them by now, staggering down the road, coming from the field and out of the woods. _Where the fuck had they all come from all of a sudden? Those fucks really were like a freaking plague!_

"Ye gotta help me get him inside" he gasped and then got rid of Daryl's arms around his neck so he could put him inside the back of the car.

"We don't even know if it's working!" he heard Andrea protest from the inside, which made him lose his patience even more.

"Of course it's gonna fucking work, you just gotta fuckin believe, woman!" he snapped and tried to keep his friend steady as he heaved him inside the car.

Daryl's eyes were closed by now and the shirt he had put around his chest was completely soaked with blood, and just for a second Connor nearly panicked again because he thought his friend had died while they were busy argueing. He quickly placed a hand on his naked chest to feel for his heartbeat, and let out a relieved sigh when he could feel that there still was one.   
  
_Of course there had to be one. His friend was Daryl Dixon. A tough motherfucker. And tough motherfuckers didn't just die because of some silly bullet wounds. He had been shot many times and he was still fine, so his friend was going to be fine as well._

He let go of the injured man and headed back outside so he could keep an eye on the walkers and made his way to the driver's door. He had to shoot another three walkers and was really getting annoyed by it by now, and when another fat old undead was just about to stagger in his direction and he already wondered why the hell he was interested in him in the first place Connor grabbed the door handle and pulled himself inside the car, closing the door just in time before the first couple of walkers started banging on it.

_Great._

_Now they were trapped and really getting surrounded._

When he had a look in the rearview mirror he could not only see the countless undead but also Andrea, who was taking care of Daryl in the backseat.

"You gotta keep him steady, apply pressure t'the wound and make sure the air pressure in his chest stays constant. We need ta make sure he won't suffocate. I don't know what's screwed inside him, if tha fucker hit any organs, so ye better not fucking move him" he croaked and then turned the key in the ignition only to hear...

Nothing.

Just the stuttering of the engine and the banging of the walkers on the windows and doors.  
More and more were closing in on them, trying to get to them from the front, back and all sides.  
Andrea watched the whole scenario in panic.

"Is it working?!"

Connor tried it again. Another couple of stutters and some smoke that was slowly coming from the engine department.  
Of course. The accident. They had hit a fucking tree.

_This couldn't be real. This had to be some sort of sick joke._

"We can still get out of here, maybe we should..."

"And what are we gonna do? Fuckin carry him back t'the prison? He won't fuckin make it, and neither are we with all those fucking dead pricks behind us!" Connor yelled and tried the ignition again.

The stuttering was getting louder now, just like the banging of undead fists on their windows, and the right passenger window which the Governor had shot just a couple of minutes ago was starting to crack even more.

_This couldn't be fucking happening._

He didn't know what was worse. The fact that Daryl was slowly bleeding to death behind him, or the fact that countless walkers were about to break into their car and attack them. And as this wasn't even enough: there was also a pretty good chance that he was going to survive this shit, although he seriously didn't want to if it happened. He was covered in Daryl's blood, which might draw the walkers back to him although he couldn't know for sure.   
  
If they really decided not to attack him because of his immunity he was soon going to be forced to watch how his best friend and another member of his group were going to get eaten alive, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop it. There were too many of them. It was getting darker and darker inside the car because all the walkers were blocking the light with there bodies, and the right passenger window was creaking violently by now. He didn't want it to end like this. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

Connor tried to start the engine again.

Nothing.

He froze and stared at the bloody grimaces in front of him, and his mind went blank.

"Connor!" Andrea yelled as the creaking got louder and the car started shaking because of the force of the walkers, but he zoned out and just for a moment he thought about giving up.

If Daryl died he didn't want to live on this filthy rotten world anymore, and he did not fucking care if suicide was a sin. He had tried and gotten better after Murphy's death, but Daryl had literally been the only reason for that. Strip Daryl away from him and he was back to day zero, back to when he had lost his main purpose in life. He had hardly made it after his twin's death, and there was no way he was going through that shit twice.   
  
So yes, if they broke in here he would _let_ them eat him instead of dying maybe a couple of months later. He would rather burn in hell than go up to that sick motherfucker who kept disappointing him these days. Who turned his back on him and damned him to this world.

The first larger piece of the window next to him broke and fell inside, and when he heard Andrea's terrified scream he finally lost it.

"YOU OWE ME YOU FUCKIN BASTARD!" he yelled and hit the steering wheel as hard as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand.

He stared at the ceiling of the car and grabbed his rosary, and for a moment he thought about just ripping it in halves and throwing it to the ground.  
He took a deep breath and kept staring at the ceiling but then let go of his rosary and reached out for the car keys again.

_You owe me for taking Murphy from me._

He moved the keys one final time, and this time the roaring of the engine greeted him.  
Connor let out a gasp and then cheered.

The engine was working, and he could still hear Daryl breathing, coughing and moaning behind him.  
And although the window next to him really broke now he did no longer believe that anyone was going to die.  
He knew that God was still watching over him, even now.

_Thank you. Thank you so much._

He put the car in reverse and then hit the accelerator as hard as he could, driving right into all the walkers behind them and making them fall down.  
Andrea let out a surprised shriek because of the hard impact and Connor hit the first gear.

"Sorry!" he apologised and then moved the car further away from the tree they had hit, and although the engine was way too loud and sounded like it was pretty screwed the car was still working and hit the walkers in front of them, making the windshield crack and the vehicle jump when they ran over a couple of bodies. It was a bumpy ride but then they were back on the road that led to the prison. At least five dozen walkers were staggering after them, dragging their feet across the asphalt as they watched the car drive away from them at full speed.


	59. Blood Type

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! Yes, some of that stuff is very convenient. Let me. *sticks out tongue*  
> And I gotta remind you once more: I don't know much about medicine etc. So if I'm talking nonsense here, just ignore that!  
> It's a fanfic, it's possible in my fic world, don't worry :D
> 
>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

"No no no no NO!" Connor yelled and hit the steering wheel hard.  
  
They could already see the guard towers of the prison, but they were still about 300 yards away from their home, and just then the car had decided to give in. There had been smoke and incredibly loud stuttering all the way back here, so it really was no surprise that the engine was dying now.

"What's wrong? We need to hurry!" Andrea yelled from behind him and Connor hit the steering wheel once more.

"I fuckin know!" he yelled and tried the keys multiple times, but the car really was wrecked.

Connor looked up to check if he could see anyone, but apart from a couple of walkers there was absolutely nothing.

"Shit! Get outta the car" he said and ripped the door open.

"But.."

"Get outta the car! We'll have ta make run fer it!" Connor yelled and then opened the backdoor so he could grab Daryl by his legs.

The hunter was still unconscious, and although the bleeding had slowed down a bit there was still a lot of blood. Connor really wasn't sure how much longer his friend was going to last. It made him so furious that the car wasn't working anymore, but at least they had managed to get this far. Without it Daryl certainly would have died, no matter how much he didn't want that to happen.

"Help me get him out" the Irishman demanded and kept pulling his friend's legs until Andrea helped him.

Once Daryl was back outside and they had made sure that the temporary bandage was still in place Connor placed his friend on his back again, with his tied arms wrapped around his neck. He turned around and adjusted their weight one more time, and then he looked at Andrea.

"Ye gotta run ahead and tell people t'get us. Open the gates and help with a car."

"What about you? There's walkers everywhere, perhaps we should..."

"There's no fuckin time fer that shit! He's fuckin dying! GO!" Connor interrupted her once more and then started running as well.

Andrea passed him a couple of minutes later and ran as fast as she could, killing any walkers that were getting too close so Connor could keep running without having to stop.

But it weren't the walkers he was worried about. His own body was the main problem right now. He had been so caught up with everything that had happened during the last two hours that he had not paid any attention to his own problems, and he really regretted this now. Because just like Daryl he was also bleeding since he had split his stitches back at the motel.  
  
His hand and shoulder were burning with pain because of the constant work they had to do by driving a car around and caring Daryl. He was completely exhausted and his energy was absolutely drained after just two minutes of running. He could also hardly breathe because of all his smoking. Connor wiped the sweat off his forehead and had to stop running for a second to catch breath.

"Oh fuck" he gasped and grabbed Daryl's arm with his healthy hand when he felt a sudden wave of dizziness crush over him. The hunter wasn't responding at all, just like he could hardly feel him breathe. The world was spinning around Connor just like two days ago back on the parking lot, and he could hear all sorts of whispers in his head.

 _Not fucking now. Not now_ he thought and shook his head stubbornly to make it go away.

 _No. He wasn't going to pass out. Not now. Not when Daryl was about to die._  
  
He still stumbled and landed on his right knee, and just for a second their weight nearly pulled him to the ground. He kept staring at the prison that was so _close_ now and took a couple of loud and short breaths. He could hardly see anything and his ears were ringing. There was the feeling in the back of his head that told him that he should let go, that he should rest, but when he heard the gentle moan that was coming from his friend on his back it was enough to keep him going.

"Come on, just a bit more, ye gotta hold on" he grunted and didn't just tell that his friend but also himself.

_They were so close._

Connor managed to get back on his feet and started running again, although you couldn't even call it running anymore.  
And all he could think about was how those 300 yards where the longest 300 fucking yards he had ever come across in his life.

He had just reached the clearing when he realized that his plan had one flaw: He had forgotten all about the yard. They had never cleared it out after the attack with the truck, and he was now facing at least 50 undead that were staggering around the pathway up to the prison, and although he could see the couple of corpses Andrea had killed on her way in here there were still too many walkers, and no one from the group was in sight.

Connor stopped running for a second and leaned against a tree to catch breath once more, and he was breathing so loud and heavily that it sounded like he was suffocating. And it didn't just sound like it, it also felt like it. He knew that it would be stupid and dangerous to run right at the gates because of all the walkers, but this was about life or death, and he was pretty sure that he only had a couple of minutes before Daryl died.  
  
He took another deep breath and then grabbed both his gun AND the knife, ignoring the incredible pain that built up in his broken thumb and wrist when he grabbed it. He could hardly hold the knife and knew that he couldn't do much damage with it, but it would help him to get the walkers away from him, away from Daryl. He needed to fucking do this, and he _was_ going to do everything he could to save his friend.

Connor started running again and entered the field in front of the prison, and although he _tried_ to be ready he really wasn't prepared for this sort of fight at all. He shot the first couple of walkers with his gun and ran faster, but Daryl's weight kept pulling him down, and when he faced the hill that led back up to the yard he had to realize that he really wasn't faster than the walkers anymore.  
  
The undead were slowly closing in on them and the Irishman was forced to use his broken hand as well, and he was so exhausted and in so much pain already that he could hardly feel a thing in his hand anymore anyway. He kept slicing and shooting and shoving at the undead that tried to grab his injured friend, and for some reason he still couldn't see anyone by the prison yard. More and more walkers were coming now, and the Irishman was slowly beginning to panic.

"RICK!" he yelled as loud as he could and managed to cut a walker's throat, but he couldn't apply too much force with his broken hand, so he was forced to use his gun as well.

And he was running out of bullets.

"RICK! MAGGIE! GLENN!" he yelled and managed to get another couple of feet up the hill, only to let out a shocked gasp when he noticed that all the walkers that had been piling up on the gate were now heading in their direction as well.  
 _  
Fuck._

He really should've seen that coming, but truth was that he really hadn't. He turned around in panic and tried to run back so he could get inside the prison through another gate, only to see that walkers were coming at them from the other side as well. They were trapped.

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._

They weren't going to make it. Not on their own, not with anyone opening the gates.

 _Where the fuck was everyone? Where was Andrea? Where was Rick? They were going to get killed here! Right on their own doorstep!_  
  
Connor shoved another walker away and kept turning around and around, to keep other walkers from grabbing Daryl but also to keep an eye on all of them at once. But the spinning around just made the dizziness worse. He decided to walk further up the hill, to get away from the two larger groups that were coming down both sides of the road, but they were coming from all sides now. When he stabbed another walker he suddenly lost grip of his knife because everything was _really_ spinning by now, and although he landed on his knees because of the exhaustion he still kept shoving, boxing, and fighting, using his empty gun to bash brains in and stop the walkers from coming.

"Fuck off!" he croaked and held on to Daryl's arm with his broken hand while using the other one to keep shoving and killing.

But it was useless. They were surrounded, and he was really close to passing out.

It had to be too freaking late. He wasn't even sure if Daryl was still alive. His friend had neither moved nor made any sort of noise during the fight and his arm was ice cold. The world was spinning more and more, and although Connor really wanted to keep fighting he physically couldn't do it any more. Now that all the walkers were so freaking close to him the whole whispering bullshit was back, it sounded like they were yelling at him, reaching out for him, coming for him, asking him to follow.

"Leave 'im alone ye sick fucks!" he tried to yell, but it was just a mumbling because he was fighting really hard not to faint now.

Just when the Irishman was about to finally _, finally_ give in some loud noise to their right startled him. He could hear the roaring of an engine and the rattling of a gate, and seconds after that bullets started flying, making a whole bunch of walkers fall down and turn around.

Rick and the others had finally opened the gates.

Connor let out an exhausted laugh but still fell down, and this time he allowed himself to pass out because he knew they were going to get saved.

* * *

He wasn't knocked out completely. A small part of him was conscious enough to be aware of how someone freed him from Daryl's weight, but since he wasn't really sure if it were just Rick or the walkers he held on to his friend as tightly as he could and still tried to fight, although he knew that it was no problem for the intruder to get rid of his hands. He didn't want his friend to go, but he was actually relieved when the weight was lifted off of him. He could feel how he was grabbed by his arms and pulled up as well, with an arm wrapped around his waist and supporting him to head for wherever they wanted him to go.

"Was shot.. need t'help him" he croaked and finally understood that it was Michonne who was helping him inside the car.

He was close to passing out but still couldn't help but acknowledge her strength. The woman really had balls, he gave her that. He was sure that if Murphy was still with him he would have laughed at him for getting carried around by a woman. But truth was that he did not care, he was just glad that he didn't have to run and carry Daryl anymore.  
  
He couldn't wait to get some rest, and he was so going to get that as soon as he had made sure that his friend was alright. He was aware of the fact that Michonne and the others were talking to him, but everything sounded like he was under water and he didn't understand a single thing.

He seemed to have blacked out for a moment, because when he finally woke up again he noticed that it was suddenly a lot cooler than when he had been outside. When he opened his eyes he saw that he was being carried inside their cell block, and the cool air was enough to make him wake up again.

"Where.. where the fuck is Daryl?" he mumbled and tried to look up.

Andrea and Michonne were helping him now, but his friend was nowhere in sight.

"Outside. Rick and Hershel are trying to help him" Michonne answered and Andrea nodded.

"We're just going to make you lie down for a bit. You should rest. You've done all you could" the blonde woman said, but Connor still tried to fight them.

"No. No, I gotta help 'em. Tell them what happened" he protested and looked up, only to groan when he noticed that the world was spinning again.

"I already did" Andrea said and placed a hand on his chest.

"Now let us take a look at your injuries. You were bit just a couple of days ago, you should rest."

"I ain't gonna fucking rest when my best friend's dying, alright?!" he spat and finally managed to fight both women.

He still stumbled and nearly fell when all the support was suddenly gone, but when the women tried to help him again he raised his hand to stop them from coming.

"'m alright, okay? 'm fine" he said and then turned around, only to run into the wall.

Damn he felt dizzy. Connor rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut for a second to gather his thoughts, and once he had done that he ran back outside to get to the dining hall where they had put Daryl on the field bed that had once been his brother's. He could see all the others in the hall. Maggie, Hershel and Carol were hovering over Daryl, which was why he couldn't really see his friend's face.

"How is he?" he asked in shock and approached them, which made the whole group except for Herschel and Carol look at him.

"He's alive. But it doesn't look good" Rick answered and Connor widened his eyes in surprise.

"Well can I.." he muttered and tried to get closer, but the former policeman stepped in his way and placed a hand on his chest.

"No. You should rest. There's nothing you can do. Especially not when you're in this sort of condition. You'll just make it worse.  
Let Hershel and Carol take care of it."

"But maybe I can just.." Connor went on and grabbed his hair, and he finally allowed the panic to take over when he heard how Daryl started groaning and wincing in pain.

It sounded like the others were taking the bullet out, and just like Rick had said: it didn't look good.

"Fuck, I should've gone with 'im" Connor muttered and repeated it over and over again.

For the past 30 minutes he had been in such a hurry and so much shock that his brain had been unable to process everything, but now everything crashed down on him at once. Daryl had been shot. Merle was dead. The Governor was dead. They had been in a car crash, there was blood everywhere, Woodbury was preparing for war and probably heading for them, and everything was just so fucked it that was absolutely ridiculous. His heart was pounding in his chest and it felt like the walls were closing in on him, and for a second it felt like he was going to pass out again.

"Hey" Rick said and placed a hand on his shoulder, which snapped the Irishman out of it.

"He's gonna be fine, okay? You know him better than any of us. Daryl's too tough to die."

"Aye, but fuck. I screwed up. Oh fuck, I screwed up. I shouldn't have left the freaking cell. I should've listened t'him."

"You did the right thing. You killed the Governor. You solved a problem. Andrea told us about his plans. What he was going to do.  
Hey, listen to me" Rick said and Connor finally looked at him.

"It's okay. Everything's gonna work out."

The blonde swallowed hard and nodded, but he still wouldn't stop staring at Hershel and the others, who were taking caring of Daryl.

"Now sit down. Let Maggie take care of you, come on."

Connor shook his head and kept looking at his injured friend in shock.

"I ain't gonna leave 'im. I gotta.."

"You don't have to do anything. Just...just sit down over there" Rick went on and managed to guide the Irishman to one of the tables, where Maggie was already waiting for him with a couple of medical supplies so she could take care of his split stitches and dirty bandages.

Connor finally did as he was told, but since the shock had really taken over his body now he couldn't feel a single thing when Maggie freed him from the old bandages and started stitching up his shoulder.

The others were still trying to help Hershel and Carol as good as they could, and although it didn't sound like Daryl was in real trouble Connor had to realize that everything scared the shit out of him.

"How'd you do it?" he heard Maggie ask.

It took him a while to react, but then he turned his head and swallowed.

"What?" he muttered and blinked a couple of times.

"How'd you kill him?"

Connor hissed when she got rid of the bandage around his hand. It looked bad, even he had to admit that. It had been a stupid idea to use it when it was still healing, and it already looked like it was healing the wrong way. Before he got to answer Maggie noticed the mess as well and took a closer look.

"We need to adjust that. We can't have that grow back together the wrong way" she said and Connor nodded.

"Aye. I know."

She took his left hand as tenderly as she could but it still made him wince.

"I'm sorry" she said and Connor didn't get to answer, because right then she suddenly twisted his wrist and thumb, making it crack and him groan in pain.

He stood up for a second and walked around for a bit to calm down, and although the twisting had hurt it had done what was necessary. The bones were back in place so they could heal properly instead of giving him a crippled and useless hand. All he had to do now was make sure it was kept still. He sat back down after a moment and let Maggie apply the small metal pieces they used as stabilizers, and since she was so caught up with it the Irishman decided to get back to her previous question.

"Daryl stabbed 'im. But it didn't kill him. 's why he got shot" he muttered and looked at his friend again, worry written all over his face.

"Andrea shot 'im in the head" he went on and Maggie nodded with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Good."

Connor swallowed hard and bit the inner side of his right cheek.

"Not good enough" he muttered and listened up when Hershel suddenly got up and started talking to Rick whilst cleaning his hands with a towel.

Connor could finally see his friend, who was lying there on the bed with his bare chest that was covered with blood and had a nasty hole in it. Carol was holding the hunter's bloody hand and looked just as worried. Daryl looked incredibly pale and his eyes were still closed, and once again panic rushed over Connor. _What if he was dead?_ Although Maggie was still trying to put a new bandage around his shoulder he suddenly got up and headed for the two men.

"How is he?"

Both Hershel and Rick looked at him, and although the policeman tried to stop the old man from talking he still answered Connor.

"We managed to get out the small pieces that were stuck in the hole, but it hit a blood vessel. There's internal bleeding in his chest. I need to open him up and stitch it back together. But we'll have to do this sort of surgery in the infirmary and that is, as we know, completely overrun. And he's lost a lot of blood. He needs blood, but we don't know his blood type."

Connor looked at his friend and rubbed his mouth.

"I'm type O negative."

Hershel raised an eyebrow and Connor shifted a bit, and he wouldn't stop looking at Daryl.

"I shit ye not. 'm type O negative. And I've heard that people like me can give blood t'anyone. Stick something in me, I don't care. I just wanna help 'im.  
's all my fault he's lying there now. I already got his brother killed, there's no way 'm getting him killed as well."

Rick looked at Hershel with a frown.

"Can we do that?"

Hershel was still looking at the Irishman and shook his head.

"It's true that type O negative's are universal donors, but there are still many things that can go wrong. He can still reject it. And even without all that... No we cannot do that, Connor. You got infected. Even if you are immune, you are still a carrier. Your blood is not clean. It can kill him, it can turn him, we don't know anything about.."

"What else can we do? Let 'im bleed t'death? Try shit with yer blood and make it worse should we use the wrong type?" Connor spat and startled Hershel with his sudden outburst.

He pointed at Daryl with an angry growl.

"He's fuckin dying over there, and you need t'start talkin old man. What are we gonna do about it? We need t'get him to the infirmary? Fine. I'll kill every last fuck over there. I've already been in there and since fuckers don't attack me it won't be a problem t'clear that out. Now tell me, does he need blood or not? If yes, then use mine. I know it can kill him, but if he's gonna die otherwise anyway then I don't fuckin care. if there's the slightest fuckin possibility that he might survive with my blood then we're gonna use it, and yer gonna save his fuckin life, alright?"

"Connor, just calm down, you're in shock" Rick said and tried to reach out for the Irishman, but Connor shrugged him off and glared at him.

"No, I've never thought clearer about all this shit. You know what? Merle ain't dead and Daryl ain't dying because of me but because of _you_ , Rick. If it weren't fer me and my plan then this Governor asshole would still be walking around and he would've killed us all. It's about time we stop all this pussy bullshit in here. Too many people have died because of yer decisions and all yer good guy talk. If you'd shot that bastard when you were sitting right in front of him then we wouldn't be having this fucking conversation right now!"

Everyone stared at the Irishman in surprise, but Connor kept his eyes fixed on Rick.

"And I'm not gonna let my best friend die because of you calling the wrong shots here" he went on and then looked at Daryl.

He was so extremely bitter all of a sudden, but he was also relieved because he had finally spoken out what he'd been thinking for a while now.  
After gathering his strength and calming down for a moment he turned around and looked at Glenn, Andrea and Michonne.

"You three come with me. We're gonna clear the path t'the infirmary so Hershel can do the surgery and get Daryl back t'gether."

It was dead silent now, and Connor was actually surprised that Rick wouldn't say anything to that.  
The others were just as dumbstruck, and the Irishman was even more surprised when they really followed him instead of raging against him having the say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor being a type 0 negative in combination with his "special" antibodies/immune system is the reason why he's immune to this walker thing.


	60. Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

The corridors were still messy, dusty and extremely dirty. They made their way over to the prison infirmary, and Connor couldn't help but feel unsure about the whole thing now. He knew that they had to get Daryl over there, so Hershel could take care of the wound and probably save his life, but it was the dirt that worried him, the dirt and lack of equipment.  
  
He was well aware that the walkers and darkness were the least of their problems. The dirt and basically everything about this filthy place coud infect Daryl's wound and kill him even with the bullet being gone. Everything was such a mess, and the more he thought about it, the more it was giving him a headache and made him feel like shit.

He kept walking and searched each cell to their left and right to make sure no walker was in there, and pretty soon he could hear how Andrea and Michonne started talking about Woodbury. Every once in a while they would kill a bunch of walkers, but right now the Irishman was more interested in the conversation Andrea and Michonne were having. Because an idea struck him right then and there.  
  
He had forgotten all about Woodbury because of all the chaos around Daryl getting shot, but when he heard them talk about it he remembered. He had been there himself, remembered all the things this Milton guy'd had in his crazy lab when he had been tied to that table. Woodbury had been clean back then. Sterile, with electricity and running water.

The place was perfect, really. And a whole lot better than this stinking prison. And now the Governor was dead.  
If only they could get Daryl over there... force them to help him instead of having to let a freaking vet perform the surgery...

 _I think we should kidnap that doctor fella. The one that got yah_ , he remembered his friend say. _Think 'bout it. He could help you. And make us understand. Herschel's good enough for small injuries and all that, but he ain't got the knowledge t'do anything with your crap. But four eyes, he might be able to do something._

He killed another prisoner walker and decided to start talking.

"Eh Andrea" he muttered as he retrieved his knife and waited for them to walk around the corner.

Andrea and Michonne stopped talking so the blonde woman could talk to him instead.

"What's the matter?" she asked and looked around the corner, trying to see if there was danger ahead.   
  
But Connor wasn't talking about the walkers.

"About Woodbury. Now that tha slimy fucker is dead, how many of yer people do ye reckon will follow us and try t'kill us? And how many friendlies are there?"

They all kept walking and Andrea shrugged.

"There are about 80 people in Woodbury. At least 30 of them are fighters. Those that keep watch, those that do the scouting and attacked you when you were in town. They're all extremely loyal to Phillip" she muttered and sighed.

"And a little easy on the trigger."

Connor nodded and looked at Michonne.

"Those military wannabes ye told us about?"

She nodded and Connor snorted.

"I know this sort of douchebags. Think they got balls bigger than the size their guns, usually the first who run from scary and dangerous shit."

They all stopped talking and walking when they heard some growling and the dragging of feet coming from somewhere down the corridor. Connor raised his hand in the air to stop everyone. They waited until they saw the small group of walkers that was making the noise. The undead were slowly staggering in their direction, arms reaching out for them and teeth snapping at them.

"Let me handle that" Glenn said and walked past Connor with his machete, and Michonne followed him with her katana a second later. She walked right at the undead, decapitating the first one with her incredibly sharp weapon. Once again Connor couldn't help but envy her skills, deadliness and style. Michonne was a silent and reliable killer, which was exactly the reason why he had picked her for this little mission. Andrea wanted to follow them as well, but Connor held her back so they could keep talking about Woodbury.

"Who's gonna have the lead now?"

Andrea watched Glenn and Michonne for a moment longer, before turning her head and looking at Connor with a frown.

"That would be..Martinez I think. He and Merle were the Governor's most loyal henchmen. Then there's Shumpert.  
He doesn't say much, but he always stuck around with Martinez and Phillip."

When she noticed the thoughtful look on Connor's face she frowned even more.

"Why are you..what are you planning to do?"

The Irishman looked at her again but ignored her question.

"That Milton fella, the one that took care of my bite, you say he's not a bad person, that he helped ye?"

"Yes he did, he did. Why?"

"What about doctors, you got doctors there? Town's gotta have a doctor with that many people in there, they got a doctor's office?"

"Well, there's Dr. Stevens but.."

She froze and then widened her eyes a bit.

"Hold on, you're not planning on going back there, are you?"

Connor just looked at her for a while and then shook his head with a gentle snort.  
Glenn and Michonne were done with the walkers now, so he started walking again.

"Don't be ridiculous" he just said and walked ahead, just so he didn't have to keep the conversation going.

He needed to get his head around this. Figure it out. The infirmary wasn't too far away now and there were still a couple of walkers around, but truth was that he wasn't really interested in them at the moment. All of this was temporary. It was too messy, too filthy. He needed to sort this out on his own. He told Glenn and Andrea to take another corridor and seal all the exits so no more walkers would get in here. He chose to take Michonne with him because a) she was a very good fighter and b) she didn't talk much and he could concentrate on his thoughts in the mean time.

He needed to gather the facts, everything Andrea had told him about this town. So there were about 80 people. He knew that by now. There were at least 30 people who were willing to fight, and most of them were out to kill simply because they had guns and wanted to use them. Woodbury was clean and there was a doctor and a researcher, there were women, old people and children. Their leader was dead but everyone thought they were the evil ones, and the fact that they had killed the Governor made them look even worse. The town was protected by walls and misguided blood thirsty men. Andrea and Michonne were the only two people who knew the Governor's true face.

And now all those Woodbury fucks were out for revenge, and as soon as they discovered that their leader was dead they would be on their way over here. They had about 24 hours. Maybe even less. He doubted that they were going to attack them during the night, but tomorrow would definitely be the day shit went down.

Daryl was dying and they needed to perform surgery on him and everything was so messy and so fucked...they needed to get him out of here. They needed to kill as many evil bastards as possible and get the hunter over to that godforsaken town. And maybe the whole Woodbury attacking them tomorrow was the best thing that could happen to them.

Now that he thought about it, it really was perfect. If Woodbury really attacked them tomorrow, then it would mean that the majority of fighters were out of town. With only maybe 5-10 people protecting the rest of Woodbury from walkers and shit. He was pretty sure that they were going to storm in here all big, with machine guns, cars and trucks just like last time. Woodbury would be vulnerable in the meantime, with all the reasonable people staying behind. Women, old men, kids, doctors.

They needed to get Daryl over there tomorrow. When they were busy fighting. And during that fight, they would have to make sure that every last evil motherfucker was going to get killed, leaving only the somewhat good guys there so no one could harm his friend or the others when they got back to town. Maybe after that fight they could even take over that godforsaken thing.   
  
They had eliminated the biggest threat, cut off the head of the snake, and a group without a proper leader was bond to make mistakes, to have doubts...This was their chance. It was their job, no _his_ job to clean Woodbury from all evil, just like it had been his job to clean the filth off the streets before.

He just needed to come up with the right plan.

"You're thinking about getting him to Woodbury, don't you?" Michonne asked after what felt like hours of killing walkers in dark corridors.

Connor looked at her in surprise and frowned.

"What?"

Michonne kept walking with that slight knowing smirk on her face.

"Just figured you were asking a little too many questions, and it doesn't look like you're interested in Woodbury's demographics."

Connor had to smirk because he was actually quite impressed.  
He hated that the woman was so smart and saw right through him, but he had to admit it: he was impressed.

"Maybe I am."

He had never really interacted with her before, which was why he was still a bit surprised by the whole thing. He was worried sick because of Daryl, but having a conversation with someone he didn't really know yet was actually refreshing, especially now that Michonne didn't seem to be so fucking stupid and stubborn like the rest of their group.

"I wouldn't trust anyone over there if I were you. They're dangerous, like sheep. You know what a herd of dumb sheep can do to you?  
You don't need brains or a leader to kill someone."

Connor snorted and nodded. They noticed another two walkers and killed them, but that wouldn't end their conversation.

"Yeah, I know about people like tha. Opportunists and all that crap" Connor muttered after pulling his knife out of a walkers skull.

Michonne snorted as well.

"They praised that guy like he was the new Messiah. They won't exactly welcome you with open arms after you killed their beloved preacher."

"Well, who says we killed 'im? The way I see it, he crashed his car and walkers ate 'im. Made him unrecognizable.   
And that was miles away from the prison. I mean, anything could've happened. Tragic accident. Accidents happen, don't they then?"

Michonne raised an eyebrow and looked down on the Irishman, until she rested her eyes on his left trigger finger.

"And that's just a fancy tattoo you got when you were drunk?"

Connor pressed his lips together and started walking again.

"Oh whatever, woman. Let's keep going."

When they finally reached the infirmary it snapped him out of this overthinking-about-a-Woodbury-plan state. He finally remembered what was more important right now, because if he didn't get Daryl in here soon then his whole plan would be useless anyway. No, right now they didn't need to clean town but this very room, and he was going to make sure that his friend survived this shit.

He just had to.

* * *

There was way too much blood. That was all he could think about as he watched Hershel fiddle about with the bullet wound in Daryl's chest. It was supposed to be a good thing that the bullet had gone right through. Only three tiny little segments had to be taken out, and that wasn't even the main problem. The bullet had hit some blood vessels, that were not only causing Daryl to bleed heavily, they also made the whole thing pretty complicated for Hershel. It was incredibly hard for him to close them because they could hardly see a thing and they didn't have the right tools, and Connor's sheer presence made it even more ridiculous.

Most of the time he could stay calm and be quite relaxed, but whenever it had been about Murphy and now Daryl he couldn't keep his cool. He wouldn't stop talking and freaked out because every little thing that looked wrong, and if it weren't for him insisting that he should be the one helping with the instruments and wound then people would've kicked him out hours ago. He was worse than a soon-to-be father in a delivery room, and when things went even more downhill he was a complete mess.

It got more and more obvious that Daryl really needed blood, and that made the controversial question even more relevant.

_Should they do it? Should they give him his blood and risk killing him or infecting him?_

After almost one hour of working on the wound it was finally sealed and taken care off, but when Hershel placed his fingers on the hunter's cold and sweaty neck and wrist he just shook his head.

"Preasure's still dropping. He needs blood. He won't survive without it. We've done everything we could but...he needs blood."

He exchanged glances with Connor, Rick, Maggie, Carol...everyone that was in the room. Michonne, Glenn and Andrea were still outside and kept an eye on their surroundings to make sure that no walkers would interrupt the surgery. Connor stared at his friend, who was lying there on the table, all pale and bloody. Daryl still had not opened his eyes yet, and it had been hours since he'd last heard him talk.  
  
It was kind of ridiculous, really. He'd just managed to finally, _finally_ get over Murphy. He and Daryl had just managed to overcome their own problems after that terrible start of their friendship back at the farm. They had grown so close and he had recovered just because of this stupid bastard on the table, and now this?

It was so fucking unfair. He didn't want any of it.

"Let's do it" he said and finally looked at Hershel.

Rick and the old man exchanged another look.

"You sure?" the policeman asked, and Hershel just shrugged with a worried look on his face.

Connor knew that he would be lying if he said that he was sure everything was going to work out. He still hated that he didn't know anything about his own body, his own blood, and part of him wondered why the fuck they had wasted so much time on doing random shit instead of trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He knew that he had been infected, _twice_ , and that the walkers did not attack him because they saw him as their own. He was pretty positive that he still carried whatever they had pumped in his veins with every bite, and he also knew that Hershel was pretty much right. It could kill Daryl, infect him just like a bite from a walker.

The Irishman sighed and stepped closer to his friend so he could grab his cold hand for a moment. He felt it now, the weak pulse that was getting weaker still. He then remembered what Rick had told them: they were all infected anyway, and they would all turn as soon as they had died. _So what was the point?_ He only had four options here, and three of them would end with Daryl dying.   
  
One: give him his blood and maybe kill him with the virus. Two: Give him someone elses blood, trigger a rejection, clog up his arteries – heart attack. Three: refrain from giving him blood completely: have him die from blood loss and four: give him his blood, and nothing fucking happens because he cannot infect anyone.

Connor now had to think of all the times he could have infected others through direct contact. Whenever someone had stitched up his wounds. The many many times Daryl and he had interacted, the two times Daryl had performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on him. He'd held Judith, Milton had worked on his bite wounds, and they all were still alive. It had to fucking work.

He grabbed his rosary and nodded.

"Aye. Let's do it" he said and walked over to the chair next to the operation table, so he could sit down and present his right arm.

"Do you really think this is a good idea? It could make it worse. And Connor's lost too much blood already. Just look at him. He passed out twice in a matter of two days. I think we should.." Carol tried to reason with them as she stepped closer to Daryl and took his hand, but Connor wouldn't let her finish.

"'m fine" he muttered and flexed his arm a couple of times.

"Come on, he's fucking dying on that table over there. We need t'hurry!" the Irishman demanded and grabbed his rosary with his broken hand.

Carol looked at Rick and Hershel with pleading eyes.  
Then Rick gave the nod, which made Carol put a hand on her mouth as she turned around and shook her head.

* * *

Saying that he was dizzy would be an understatement. Now that they kept pumping blood out of his arm he felt more and more cold and sick, and although he hated that feeling and needles in general he still wanted them to keep going. He felt really unsure about the whole thing when he saw how Hershel started pumping _his_ blood in _Daryl_ 's arm, and his mind wouldn't stop playing tricks on him.   
  
He couldn't stop thinking about the big what if? _What if it killed Daryl? What if it turned him? What if what if what if?_ Part of him just wanted to get up and throw the blood bag to the ground and destroy it, just so he could keep them from making it flow inside his friend.

But he still knew that they needed to take that risk, so he did the only other thing he could do about it. He gently put his broken hand on the rosary on his chest, closed his eyes and started praying, muttering the words over and over again. Just for a moment he tried to forget about everything, the fact that he felt like shit and sickos were probably going to kill them, no, only one thing mattered right now: and that was Daryl's life.

They took his blood for several minutes until he felt really shitty, and although he tried to hide it to keep them going the whole group still seemed to notice and made him stop for a bit. Hershel informed him that they would need to take more blood later, and maybe Connor was a bit too enthusiastic about it. He got back up as soon as the needle was out of his arm, and the abrupt movement made him see black spots and he nearly fainted again. It was quite embarrassing actually and made him extremely angry, so when Rick and Carol tried help him he just shoved them away and started walking around in circles.

"Alright, now that we got some time I think we should start talking about what's up next fer us" he muttered and rubbed his forehead, hoping to make spinning go away. He could still see how everyone was watching him with worried looks on their faces, and he just knew that they were going to give him shit about his own well-being in a second. Rick didn't disappoint him there.

"No, I think you should calm down from your little trip and think, Connor. You are in no condition to..."

"I said I'm fine, alright?" he spat and looked at the policeman and Andrea, who had joined them by now.

"Did ye tell them yet?"

Andrea frowned.

"Tell them about what?"

Connor snorted and looked at the rest of the group.

"You meet us back on the road and give us all of that terror shit, and then you ferget ta fucking mention it here?"

Andrea looked offended and put both her hands on her hips.

"I was trying to help Daryl and didn't exactly get the chance to explain things yet."

"Well you better start talking then, cos look at you all, sitting ducks here while there's a fucking cavalry heading fer us with big guns and shit.  
You tell yer girlfriend about that nice little chair that sick fuck prepared fer her?"

Andrea paled and Michonne narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

Connor also noticed the look on Rick's face, and how confused the rest of the group looked. The Irishman snorted and shook his head, but regretted it instantly because it made him feel even more sick. But there was no way he was going to puke or faint now, he let go of it by channeling all his anger.

"Oh right, I see. Nobody tells anyone shit here. Well, newsflash fer you people: the Governor asked our dear leader over here to hand Michonne over in exchange fer leaving us alone. But lovely Phillip had other things ta do. He was gonna shoot you as soon as you turned up in Woodbury, and he would've torn you t'shreds. Layer by layer like a fuckin onion" he said to Michonne after giving Rick and angry stare.

"What?" Carol asked. Everyone looked surprised except for Rick and Hershel.

"Is that true?" Maggie asked and Rick just kept looking at Connor for a while. He swallowed and looked at his feet a moment later.

"He offered us this deal. Only Daryl, me and Hershel knew about it."

"And you weren't gonna tell us?" Glenn asked in disbelief and Carol folded her arms with an angry headshake.

"This isn't right, this is not how we do this."

"You were really going to hand her over? Just like that? But..she's our friend" Beth joined in and Rick finally raised his voice.

"I'm just trying to keep everyone safe! They offered us a deal, we said we were going to think about it and that was the idea.   
We're not giving up this prison!"

Michonne snorted quietly in the far corner of the room and stared at Rick.

"Right. You're just giving up your own people for the sake of having a roof above your head" she said and left the room with a headshake.

"Mich" Andrea called after her and looked at Connor with an angry frown. The Irishman stared back at her with just the same angry frown and watched her go after her friend.

All the others wouldn't stop giving Rick angry looks, and although Hershel tried to calm everyone down and back their leader up Connor knew that this was his chance to take over the wheel.

"I was just trying to figure all this out. I didn't even know yet if we were really going to pull this through, but I'm gonna do everything I can to keep this group safe!" Rick tried to justify his plans, and Connor had enough.

"Then use yer fucking brain fer once if you really wanna do this, Rick! Cos all yer doing right now is talk big. Yer little plan obviously didn't work, and we could've finished this ages ago! And now his angry mob is on the way over here. Andrea says they got heavy armory, military experience, and they outnumber us big time. Daryl is dying, I'm fucked, but we managed ta kill the Governor fer you. This is yer fucking chance now. So tell me, what are ye gonna do? Huh? What are ye gonna do t'keep us safe? What are we gonna do t'keep this prison standing?"

Rick just stared back at him and clenched his fists, and for a moment it looked like his mind went blank.

"We're going to war" he answered, which made the Irishman snort.

"Oh yeah, how sweet. And how do ye wanna do this? We got a bunch of civilians here who don't know shit about wars and killing real people in battle. We got kids, and cripples, some of our best fighters are gone, there's holes in the walls and you don't even know the layout of this fucking prison. We got not enough ammo, no real cover and not the right clothes t'protect our bodies from bullets of this sort of army caliber that we're talking about, and you wanna go t'war. It's like bringing pointy sticks t'a gunfight. Fucking brilliant. What's yer strategy then?"

"I..." Rick mumbled but Connor wouldn't let him finish the sentence.

Just for a moment he had looked at his bloody and pale friend again, and this was enough to make him snap even more.

"What are ye gonna do?!" he yelled and Rick snapped as well.

"I don't know!" he yelled back and looked at Beth and Maggie, who he had startled with his outburst.

For a second it looked like he was also seeing something else, something that wasn't there.  
He messaged the bridge of his nose and looked down again.

"I just need.." he began, but then something else interrupted him.

The whole group turned their heads in the direction of the operation table when they heard some violent shaking and movement.  
They all widened their eyes in shock when they saw that Daryl was lying there and started shaking and twitching like someone was electrocuting him.


	61. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

"What's wrong with him?!" Connor exclaimed in shock as he made his way over to the operation table, where Daryl was still struggling violently.

Both Hershel and Rick approached the hunter as well. The old man put a hand on the hunter's forehead and examined him for a moment.

"He's having a seizure."

"What?! Why the fuck is that?" Connor yelled and tried to hold his friend steady, but Hershel shoved him away.

"Don't! We'll have to wait for it to end on its own."

The Irishman placed his healthy hand on his mouth and watched Daryl in utter shock, his heart beating faster and faster with every second that his friend kept doing this.

"What's going on?" Carol joined in and tried to get closer, but just like Hershel Rick shoved her away so they could have enough space to work.

"There's not enough blood in his brain, and his pressure is too low. He needs more blood" Hershel answered and raised his head to look at Connor, who was just standing there, eyes widened in shock.

"Are you sure it's a seizure? It could be the blood.." Rick said and Carol nodded in panic.

"Just stop it, just stop! You're infecting him! Don't you see! He's acting exactly like him when he got bit!" she said and pointed at Connor, who didn't know how to speak or move for a moment.

_What if she was right about it? What if he had made it worse?_

Daryl suddenly stopped moving and lay there perfectly still. His chest was neither rising nor falling and his eyes were wide open. He wouldn't blink or do anything, he just lay there as everyone stared at him in horror and time seemed to stop. Hershel frowned and leaned in so he could check his breathing, and when he widened his eyes everyone knew what was going on. The old man placed both his hands on the hunter's chest and started pumping, and that finally flipped a switch in Connor's head.

"No no no, that's not fucking happening" he said and tried to get closer, but right then Rick placed himself in his way, making it impossible for the Irishman to get to the table.

Hershel kept pumping and pumping and checked Daryl's heartbeat and breathing multiple times, but after a couple of minutes there seemed to be no change, because he suddenly looked up and shook his head. A second later Carol started sobbing and Connor stopped fighting Rick. He just stared at his friend in utter disbelief, and when realization finally hit him he looked up and stared at Hershel with wide eyes.

"Keep going! You can still save 'im!" he yelled and managed to free himself.  
  
He approached Hershel and showed him his arm.

"Ye said he needs more blood, so fuckin take it! Do it!" he yelled and then grabbed the old man by his shoulder.

But Hershel wouldn't react.

"Fuckin hurry!" Connor exclaimed and then let go so he could run over to Daryl. He placed a hand on his chest but felt nothing, and since Hershel wasn't doing anything he decided that he needed to keep going. He placed both his hands on his friend's chest and started pumping as good as he could, and when no one would help him he turned his head to look at the others.

"Why the fuck are ye just standing there! Do something! Get yer shit ready and take more blood! You gotta hurry!" he kept yelling and shook his head in disbelief.

He could see how Maggie was holding crying Carol. Beth was walking over to them with red eyes.  
Carl just stood there and watched him with a blank look on his face, just like Rick, Glenn and Hershel.

The whole pumping and yelling seemed to go on forever until Rick finally approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"There's nothing we can do for him. It's too late" he muttered and squeezed the Irishman's shoulder.

Connor stared at his friend's bloody face in utter shock and wanted to keep pumping, but Rick pulled him away.  
The blonde just stared at the pale and bloody face in shock.

_This couldn't be happening. This had to be some sort of sick joke.  
He couldn't just...that couldn't be true._

Part of him was aware of how incredibly ironic the whole thing was, because it was like a mirror image of what had happened a year ago, only that this time their roles were reversed. He remembered how he had been the one lying there all bloody, how he had heard Daryl rage after his last fit. And just like him his friend was now lying there with his eyes wide open, not blinking and not focused at all.

_God had to play a fucking trick on him. It was just im-freaking-possible that he could lose someone with that face **twice**_ _. Daryl wasn't dead. It had to be a dream. An illusion._

He kept staring at his friend and would no longer look at the rest of the group, and when Rick tried to pull him further away he held on to the table and shrugged the policeman off.

"Get out" he muttered and kept staring at Daryl with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Connor" Rick tried to reason with the blonde, and that was enough to make him snap again.

Connor looked up and gave the whole group the most hateful glare he had ever given to anyone, and before he even knew what he was doing he suddenly knocked all the medical supplies over and started yelling at them.

"Get the fuck outta here! All of you!" he yelled as loud as he could and fought anyone who came too close to him or Daryl, and soon he was completely hysterical.

"I said get out!" he yelled and kept raging and fighting and yelling until the majority of the group except for Hershel and Rick was gone.

"We can't leave you alone with him. He's dead. We're all upset, but this needs to stop, we need to take care of this..."

Silence.

"He once told us that this is what he wants."

Connor leaned against the table and let out an angry snort.

"Aye 'f course. People die and yer the first t'shoot them in the head. Get out of my sight" he snarled and stared the remaining two men down.

"Both of you."

"Connor..:"

"This is all your fault!" the Irishman yelled again and suddenly darted forward so he could shove Rick against the wall.

"You should've shot this asshole when you had the fucking chance! And now look at him!" he kept yelling and for a moment he actually considered stabbing Rick with the syringe he still held in his hands.

"Look at him! You fuckin killed him!"

"Calm down! Both of you!" he heard Hershel yell from behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder, and after staring at the policeman for a whole minute longer he finally let go of Rick and turned around so he could get back to his friend.

"Just leave me alone with him" he said and felt a sudden pain in his chest, and he really didn't know for how much longer he could hold his emotional reaction back.

He turned his head after a while and looked at Hershel and Rick again, and this time he tried to be calmer, because he seriously just wanted them out of here.

"I'll take care of it" he muttered and the two men finally seemed to understand, because then they started walking and headed for the doors, but not without putting their hands on his shoulder first.

Connor waited a couple of minutes more until he was sure that everyone was gone. He could still hear them talk and sob from behind the door and knew that they were just waiting for the shot to ring through the halls, and even he was painfully aware of the weight of his gun.

The Irishman bit his lower lip hard and leaned against the table to look at his pale and bloody friend. He could see the stitches where the bullet had went through, saw the pale blue lips and messy hair. This was like seeing dead Murphy all over again, but this time that wasn't the reason why he was upset. He was no longer hunting an echo. This was Daryl lying there in front of him, not Murphy, and this was the reason why everything hurt, why he felt like bawling although he was too numb to do so right now. And after staring at this face for a long while he could no longer hold his rage back.

"I told you t'let me drive the car!" he yelled and wanted to punch Daryl, but of course. He couldn't do that.

So he just clenched his fists on the table and shook his head. He was so incredibly angry at the hunter, that stupid fucking redneck that had managed to get himself shot.

"And I also fuckin told ye that we never should've gone back t'them in the first place" he went on and looked down.

"We never would've gotten close t'this shithole. No conflicts, no Woodbury, no fuckin Governor.." he mumbled and then clenched his fists again, because another wave of anger rushed over him.

"Just because of your! fucking! brother!" he yelled and kicked the table with each word, and since he had already thrown everything within reach all he could do now was calm down.

He looked at his friend again and pressed his lips together, and the pain in his chest got worse and worse.

 _This can't be true this can't be true this can't be true_ , he kept repeating in his head, until the frustration and sadness took over and the rage subsided.

"Come on man" he muttered, voice thick with emotion.

He grabbed Daryl's hand just like his friend when he had been lying there like that, hoping to make it better. And as he stared at the hunter's face and saw the open eyes something just felt...wrong. He frowned and leaned closer, but he could neither feel a heartbeat nor hear him breathe. But that still had to...He squeezed the hand once more and then had a look around the room in panic, because he didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do to make it right.

_Because this was Daryl, and Daryl couldn't just **die**. It was so so wrong._

He then remembered what Rick had told him.

_We need to finish this. This is what he wants._

He knew that this was his "chance" to make all his mistakes with Murphy right, because if there was one thing he regretted more than anything then it was the fact that he had let his brother turn. He knew that he was supposed to "end" it for Daryl now as well, but there was something in his guts that told him that this just wasn't right. Not as in _my-best-friend-just-died-that-can't-be-I'm-so- depressed_ kind of "isn't right". No, this was like _the-clock-is-running-in-the-wrong-direction_ kind of "isn't right". Daryl and dying? That had to be a mistake.

He squeezed the hand once more just like last year, and he wasn't sure if his tortured mind was just playing tricks on him and he was really going crazy now, or if all this was reality and the hunter had just squeezed back.

It made Connor frown and he moved closer once more, and although he still couldn't see or feel any vital signs realization suddenly hit him. _This was **exactly** the fucking point._ When he had been like that people had thought he was dead as well. They had been about to shoot him and it had been impossible for him to do anything, because he had been paralyzed, it had been like an apparent death. The bite hadn't been too bad just like the shot wasn't too bad now, and just like Daryl he had been taken care of last year.

His friend had been alright just a minute ago. His pressure had went back up.   
All the fragments had been pulled out, there had been no more bleeding.He'd received enough blood.  
The wound had been closed without too many problems, and it certainly hadn't been fatal.

All of this had happened because of **_his_** _freaking_ _blood._

It was _exactly_ the same.

Of course. The whole struggling and twitching had looked just like when people died because of an infection with the walker virus, and Daryl had went limp just like people when they died. No vital signs, death, and the danger of turning into a walker. But this wasn't like that.

_He's having a seizure .There's not enough blood in his brain, and his pressure is too low. He needs more blood._

"Oh no you don't" Connor growled and walked away from the table to get the things Hershel had used for the transfusion.

He stuck the needle in his own arm after cleaning it a bit just like he had seen Hershel do it before. He watched how the red fluid exited his arm and went right back inside the empty blood bag. He then turned his head with an awkward hiss and looked back at his friend. He knew that the blood could make it worse, but he also knew that his friend really needed it. He had managed to get through this strange fit before, so Daryl was damn right capable of that as well. And if another transfusion could also mean life rather than death, then this was a risk he was willing to take.

"You ain't dying as long as I'm around, ye hear me you asshole?"

* * *

When he exited the infirmary about ten minutes later he could see that everyone was still there, and once again it was Rick who came over to talk to him.

"Why didn't you shoot him? Is it...is it done?" he asked and Carol sobbed once more.

Connor still felt dizzy because of all the blood he had lost today and it took him a moment to focus, but when he did he just stared at Rick for a long while and then started walking again.

"I didn't cos he isn't fucking dead" he growled and tried to get away because he seriously needed a smoke and some fresh air right now, but of course the group wouldn't let him go.

"Connor, you need to stop this. We all know it's tragic, but we need you to.."Hershel tried to talk to him, but the Irishman wouldn't let him finish.

"He didn't fuckin die, alright?! Yeah we all get it, yer a freaking vet and know shit about medicine, but truth is that you fucking don't. Daryl's not a fuckin cow. He didn't die, he was just having a seizure and needed more blood. Just like ye said. And my blood caused him t'fall in this freak-state, cos guess what, that's the exact same thing that happened t'me when I was about t'fucking die last year. 't was a fuckin shock reaction or some crap like that. He's fine now" he answered and grabbed his bloody arm, where a large bruise was forming because he had not really hit the vein on the first try.

Hershel and the rest of the group frowned.

"What did you do?" Rick asked and Carol suddenly ran back inside the infirmary.

"I saved his fuckin life's what I did" the blonde answered and turned around to get away from people, but there it was again, the dizziness, the black spots, the exhaustion, and the fact that he was physically and emotionally drained. He stumbled around until he reached corner where Andrea and Michonne were keeping watch, but then he couldn't do it anymore. He stumbled until he could place both his hands on the wall. He slid down on it until he was sitting on the dirty floor.

"Fuck" he growled and shielded his eyes with his healthy hand, and a couple of seconds later he could already feel how two people placed themselves right in front of him. One of them knelt down in front of him and placed a hand on his forehead to move his head up, but he just growled and tried to keep looking down just so the world would stop spinning.

"Just fuck off" he muttered and fought the hands that were trying to help him back on his feet and the hand that was trying to turn his arm around.

 _I just need t'fucking sleep_ , he thought, and the idea of just lying down on the dirty ground didn't seem so uninviting at the moment. He was exhausted and still a bit panicked and overstressed, but he couldn't fight the tired smile that broke through. Because he had made it, because they had made it, because Daryl was still alive and he had been the one to save him.

He was even more surprised when he noticed that the blurriness was no longer just coming from the whole feeling dizzy thing. He felt the wetness on his palm and let out a surprised snort when he noticed that his eyes were actually watery. He came to the realization that he wasn't crying because he was upset, no those were (as Rome had used to call it) tears of joy. He knew that there were still a shitton of things that could go wrong, but just for a moment he believed that everything was going to be alright, and that made him happier than ever.

A gentle sob escaped his mouth and then he started chuckling, because it was like the past had repeated itself and this time he had won. Someone he loved and who had _that_ face had been injured because of him not watching them. There had been blood, in his face, on his hands and clothes. He had been running and screaming and trying to make it right.  
  
He had tried to stop the bleeding and stop him from dying just like one year ago in Boston, only that this time he had succeeded. He didn't care that it was too early to feel relieved and so he started laughing although he was crying at the same time, and everything was so fucked and messy that he just couldn't stop. The world was spinning and all the people around him were staring at him with worried looks on their faces but he didn't care.

This had been his second chance, his chance to prove himself, to make it right and really forgive himself, and he had used it. He had failed to save Murph, but he had managed to save Daryl's life instead. He stared up at the ceiling and couldn't stop laughing and crying as he tried to grab his rosary with the arm Hershel was currently looking at, and part of him just wanted to kiss everyone.  
  
His faith was fully restored. He knew that god had never left him, that god had forgiven him just like he had forgiven himself. And although there were still so many things they needed to take care of he suddenly felt so incredibly free and relieved, like the last bit of Murphy's dark shadow that had been cast on him ever since his twin's death had finally and fully left him.

Only part of him heard the others talk, noticed how Hershel turned his head to look at Rick and the others. The old man muttered something like "He's given too much blood, his body's under acute stress." Somone asked "That why he's acting so...weird?" and Hershel nodded. Connor wanted to protest and tell them that he was alright, but somehow he just couldn't do it, and soon he was laughing so hard that the dizziness was getting worse and worse.   
  
He couldn't breathe but also was so incredibly happy, and after being hysterical for a couple of minutes he finally welcomed the darkness that had been calling him ever since he had returned to the prison. He would no longer fight it, and he wasn't sure if he just drifted off to sleep or if he passed out, but truth was that he didn't care. He just welcomed it, knowing that his job was done for now.


	62. Gathering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

He woke up in the middle of the night and cursed gently because it felt like he was making a habit out of that. Connor turned his head and rubbed his eyes, and it took him a while to wake up properly. He was a bit confused at first, because the last thing he remembered was sitting on the cold and dirty floor in front of the infirmary. The Irishman sat up with a gentle sigh and had a look around, only to notice that he wasn't in his cell but in one of the ground level ones.

He rubbed his eyes once more and got up, only to let out a gentle relieved groan because the dizziness was finally gone. He wanted to cheer and yell "thank god!" because this had seriously annoyed the crap out of him for the past couple of days, but he knew that he couldn't do that because it was in the middle of the night and the others were sleeping. He didn't want to wake them up, especially not baby Judith. He stretched his tense muscles and rubbed his shoulder, but there was only a dull pain in it, so he reckoned that the nap had done him some good.

Connor turned around to have a look at the top bunk, but Daryl was nowhere in sight. He was all alone in this cell and felt how panic was slowly starting to rise. What if everything had been a dream? What if his friend was dead? Even worse, what if everything had been real, but Daryl had died while he had been asleep?

The Irishman scratched the back of his head and went outside to see where the hunter was. He walked down the cell block and peeked inside each cell. He could see Beth and Hershel, whose snoring was loud and unmistakable. He then passed Glenn and Maggie's cell and saw the couple lying there in one bed (how the fuck did they fit in there?) all snuggling and sound asleep. He then passed Rick and Carl's cell but only found the younger Grimes lying there in the top bunk, and he reckoned that their leader was probably keeping watch. Which was good, considering that Connor wanted to talk to him anyway.

The Irishman wanted to keep walking but had to stop when he passed the cell in which they were keeping the newest addition to the Grimes family. It was still incredibly odd and grotesque to see the baby. Not only because there were dead people and death all around them, but also because it was weird to see such a small bundle lie in a freaking prison cell.  
  
He couldn't really see her since they kept her in the crib Carl had brought for her, but truth was that he didn't want to see her anyway. Because all her innocence reminded him what was at stake because of the ongoing fight with Woodbury, and although he had promised Lori that he was going to look after her children, part of him doubted that the little girl was going to survive this.

Everyone was screwed these days, both physically and mentally, and now that even Daryl had almost died there was little to no chance she was going to make it. He would try anything to keep her safe, but he seriously didn't even want to keep his hopes up anymore. The only solution to the whole thing was to get her out of here, but life outside was even more dangerous for her then life in here.

Connor sighed and started walking again, and after passing Michonne's cell he finally found his friend at the very end of the cell block. He was a bit confused because this was the only cell door that was closed, but he figured that the rest of the group did that only to be on the safe side. He grabbed the bars to pull the door open, which was rather hard to do because it was creaking like hell. The older of the two friends tried to be as quiet as possible, and after a particularly loud creak he froze right where he was and just listened.  
  
There was nothing but silence and Hershel's snoring, so he kept going and then entered the cell. He got even more angry when he saw that they had cuffed one of Daryl's hands to the bed frame. It sure was uncomfortable for the hunter and he knew it, since his friend had once done the same to him when he had been about to die. He didn't have any keys to free his friend, so he just tried to adjust the arm's position as good as he could, and he knelt down next to the bed so he could take a closer look at Daryl's injury.

"Hey, buddy" the Irishman greeted his friend with a gentle low voice and waited for an answer.

An angry snarl, the usual string of insults, a chuckle or smirk, hell anything, but Daryl wouldn't react.

The remaining Dixon's eyes were still closed, and Connor wasn't sure if his friend had woken up yet at all. Daryl wasn't wearing a shirt and just lay there with the massive bandage on his chest, which was surprisingly clean compared to all the mess the Irishman had seen just a couple of hours ago. The sight made him both extremely angry and upset, because he could see all the scars and he knew that the others had seen them as well.

 _Add another one t'the list,_ he thought and adjusted the bandage with an angry growl. It wasn't like he didn't have any scars as well, but with Daryl it just seemed to get worse and worse. First all the scars from his past, then the scar from the arrow he had managed to fall on last year, the scars on both his temples from said fall and Andrea's bullet, and now _another_ it looked like everything was far from over.

Connor sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose because the worry took over again. It was still night and the prison was still standing, but he was pretty sure that all hell was going to break loose soon. He looked at Daryl and gritted his teeth, because there were so many things he regretted now, so many things he wished he had done different. Killing the Governor had been one step ahead, but it had also caused them about a thousand problems more, and he really wasn't sure how he was going to solve all that without any more people dying.

"Why'd ye have ta fucking be in coma when all this shit happens, man" he muttered and kept staring at his friend, as if it was going to wake him up somehow.

Since he was still a bit paranoid he checked his pulse and breathing once more, just to make sure that Daryl really was there, that he was okay and still alive.

"'m so going to kick yer arse as soon you wake up you fuckin dumbass."

He shook his head with a gentle snort.

"And yer telling me tha my plans are shite. Now look at you. Now I gotta handle te fuckin problem all on my own and watch over _yer_ ass instead of you watchin mine" he went on and fell quiet for a while, because he just wanted a moment to enjoy the fact that his friend was still there. He seriously had no idea what he would've done without him.

Just for a second he tried to picture it: how he would've felt without Daryl in this very moment. He already knew what it felt like, he already knew how much the death of a beloved person had screwed him up. No, he thanked god that it wasn't like that again, and he thanked his brother for making him ready for all this. If he had not let go of Murphy until now then it could've been just as fucked up.

 _I need you_ , he remembered Daryl say and nodded gently. Yes, he was right here, Daryl was right here, and no one was going anywhere, and everything was going to be fine. He couldn't wait until all of this was over. There were so many things he needed to tell his friend, so many things he needed to apologize for and make them right again.

He also knew that there would be a lot of issues as soon as Daryl woke up. First the whole thing with the blood, because he was pretty sure that his friend was just as fucked as him now. Maybe not immune, but there certainly were going to be strange side effects with all the blood. He just knew it. And Daryl was going to kick his ass for that.

Then there was the other issue he was going to have to face with Daryl waking up.

Merle's death.  
The grief.

Because of all this mess around the Governor and the car chase his friend had not yet been able to really process his brother's death. -Really- process it. Connor couldn't wait to help him there, and he really wanted to help his friend, because he knew what it felt like, and because he really wanted to give something back to Daryl after everything his friend had been through with him back on the farm. But there was also a part of Connor that was actually glad that Daryl was not awake yet.

 _Maybe it's better that way_ , he thought and gently nudged his friend's shoulder.

Maybe it really was the best to let his friend rest a bit more, to keep him away from all that pain for a little while longer.  
This time it was _his_ job to make everything right. This time it was his job to make everything better.

"Y'know, I just realized that I never really thanked you fer everything you've ever done fer me" he said after a while and looked at his friends face.

"After all the shit with Murph...When I tried t'kill me, when I nearly got eaten by walkers after that car crash..."  
  
He sighed and looked down on his friend, at the bandage.

"And then with te bite, when that prison fuck attacked me, the Woodbury thing and all the crap that happened t'us ever since you people found me.  
Ye've always been there fer me. So ye don't get t'die, you hear me?" he muttered and looked at his friend's face again.

It really was weird, everything. The whole role reversal. He was not used to it anymore, being the one who had to look after someone, who had to take care of someone. Daryl being there for him had always been a fact, and now that it wasn't like that for the very first time he actually realized how much he had taken everything for granted without really appreciating it. He had been quite selfish until now. It had always been about him, his depression, Murphy Murphy Murphy, his injuries, his immunity, his wounds, his jealousy. And as he stared at his injured friend he realized how unfair he had been the whole time.

"So yeah, 'm sorry fer getting you into this shit, and 'm sorry fer getting your brother killed, really. I'm gonna make it right.  
Not just cos I owe ye, but also as thanks fer everything you stupid redneck've done fer me."

He really hoped that Daryl wouldn't wake up now, because he hated being so girly, and because he knew how much Daryl hated it when he was like that, but he had felt the sudden need to tell his friend that.

"Alright, gotta go" Connor muttered after a while of just keeping his friend company.  
  
He got up and cleaned his jeans from all the dirt. After making sure that everything was alright he headed for the cell door. Once he reached it he looked at Daryl once more and warned him "And you better survive that shit or I swear 'm gonna kick yer arse six ways from sunday" before leaving the cell to head outside.

* * *

It was pitch black outside, but he didn't even need his eyes to find Rick. The steady hammering could be heard all over the yard, and it was drawing even more walkers in. Connor could see all the undead by the fence, heard the steady moaning and the rattling of chain links. The group had given up fighting them by now, since they had actually and finally agreed with his suggestion to use them as extra shield against snipers and other attack. The Irishman walked across the bridge that connected cell block's C and D. He could see Rick, who was hammering wood panels and metal table tops to both sides of the bridge.

The policeman looked up and rubbed his forehead when Connor got closer.

"How is he?" Rick greeted him and the blonde came to a halt right in front of him whilst lighting a cigarette.

Connor took a closer look at the construction and nodded.

"Okay I guess. 's asleep right now."

"Well, you saved his life."

Connor snorted and looked down at the walkers again.

"Did I?" he muttered and knelt down so he could take the nails and help Rick a bit.

He still couldn't stop thinking about the possible consequences of him giving Daryl his infected blood.

"How'd it happen?" the former policeman asked after a while, and Connor blew out some smoke with a gentle sigh.

"What, Daryl?"

Rick hammered a few more nails with a grunt.

"Everything."

"Andrea already told ye" Connor just answered.

"Well I would like to hear your version" Rick answered and kept working. Connor watched him for a while until he finally answered.

"Merle let me out. We was gonna kill the Governor t'gether. We knew te location since you were meeting that sick fuck..but shit went wrong.  
I split my stitches, Merle knocked me out cold and locked me in tha motel. He went by himself, and got shot. I tried t'help him, it was too late though."

Rick stopped hammering and turned his head so he could look at Connor, who wouldn't look back at him. The Irishman kept smoking and stared at the walkers instead.

"Ye can imagine Daryl's reaction when he found us. He wanted revenge. We were on our way t'Woodbury, and we was gonna kill the Governor, but then Andrea came right at us, and it looked like tha fucker chased her. So Daryl waited and we hunted him down with a car until we both crashed. I let 'im go after the Governor cos I had t'look after Andrea, he stabbed the fucker but didn't kill him, and because of that he got shot."

Rick kept staring at him for a moment, completely lost in thoughts.

"What about the Governor?"

"Andrea shot 'im. Fucker's dead. Really dead."

Rick just nodded and resumed his work.

"Hey listen, about earlier.." Connor muttered and moved closer.

"I didn't mean t'be so fuckin harsh, alright? The whole thing with Daryl just scared the crap outta me, and I overreacted a bit.  
I knew ye were just trying t'help our group. And I was trying the same. Guess both our plans didn't work out. It's not just yer fault."

"I know. But you were right" the other man answered and Connor frowned.

"What?"

"I should've told the group. We should've handled this differently. We need a plan. It can't stay like this. We lost too many people already."

Connor folded the arm with the broken hand above his belly and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Aye. So what do ye wanna do? And what's all that about?" he asked and pointed at the construction.

"We're gonna call everyone out tomorrow. And we're going to make it a group decision. I'm just getting started on the fortification process in case people decide that we should stay. Andrea told me that the Governor definitely trained those people to attack us and they will. They would've sooner or later. Your little plan just sped the whole process up."

Connor pressed his lips together and nodded, feeling guilt rise in his chest.

"Aye."

"You still got your map, your ideas with the walkers?"

The Irishman nodded once more.

"'f course. They're in my cell."

Rick nodded as well and got up.

"Good. Because I need your help, should we all stay here. I think your experience with this sort of thing will come in handy."

"Okay. Whatever we have t'do to straighten this mess out" Connor agreed and then threw his cigarette away.

"But there's one more thing we gotta do if we're gonna stay here and if they come."

"And what's that?" Rick asked and frowned.

"Should they attack us then the majority of the people from Woodbury will be here. And I need you, Andrea and Michonne t'take Daryl to Woodbury."

"What? And why do you think this is a good idea?"

Connor snorted and turned around to point at the prison.

"Just look at this place. It's crowded with walkers everywhere, it's dirty as hell, it's dangerous and we got no real Doctor, food or ammo here. I mean fuck, Daryl survived the arrow last time cos it was an arrow, and cos he was in a real bed on a clean farm and everything wasn't too bad. And now he's got an open chest wound, and Andrea happens t'know those people over there. She said there's a real Doctor, and then there's that guy who took care of my bite wound and they got medical supplies and all that shit. Maybe we can even take this place as soon as we've shot everyone up."

Rick raised his hand to slow Connor down.

"Let's just..let's just see where everybody stands. We can discuss all of that tomorrow."

* * *

They were all sitting on the benches in the prison yard, wrapped in blankets and jackets. It was an exceptionally cold morning, and although Connor didn't really like the idea that they were sitting around talking instead of preparing the upcoming war he had still obeyed Rick's request and was outside with them. He was standing a bit off from the others and kept staring at the door to cell block C, because Daryl was still in it. It was day two and his friend still wasn't awake, which made the whole preparing even more urgent. Connor sighed and let his gaze wander, to take a look at his group. He saw them all: Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, Carol, Judith, Michonne, Andrea, Carl, sitting there on the benches like children in school.

Their group was weak.

That was all he could think about. All their fighters were gone. T-Dog, Axel, Oscar, Merle, and now Daryl. He had been pretty positive about everything yesterday. He had thought that they could do it, but now he was facing the truth. Daryl was actually getting worse, he was feverish and still unconscious, and he was facing a group of unprepared civilians. He looked up just like everybody when he saw how Rick entered the yard. The policeman was staring right at him and nodded, and when Connor nodded back Rick finally started talking.

"Everything Connor said yesterday was true. When I met with the Governor, he really offered me a deal. He wanted Michonne in exchange for peace" their leader said and looked at Michonne, who still seemed to be angry with him, but kept listening to what he had to say.

"And I was gonna do that. To keep us safe. I had no idea about his real plans, and part of me believed him, but now I'm glad I didn't. I was wrong not to tell you and I'm sorry that I considered that" he went on and looked at Michonne just a moment longer, but then he turned his head and looked at the rest of the group.

"And now Connor and Daryl killed the Governor, Merle is dead and Daryl might not make it. The rest of the Governor's follower is on their way over here" he explained and looked at Andrea, who nodded.

"And I really don't know if it's too late for everything. But I do know one thing. What I said last year, that first night after the farm?"

There was a long pause after that, and while everyone waited Connor automatically flexed his left arm and placed his healthy hand on it, and even after so many months it still felt like he could feel the scar pulsate, poison him, remind him of that night when everything had changed, when everything had made it even more fucked up and difficult for him.

_Yeah, that night. How could he ever forget that one._

He sighed and looked at the door again, remembering that this time it was Daryl who was badly injured, that it was his friend who really needed help and protection this time.

"It can't be like that. It can't. Connor was right in the infirmary" Rick went on and made everyone look at the Irishman, who was quite surprised by the mention of his name.

"Too many people have died because of me making decisions on my own here. It can't stay like that. What we do, what we're willing to do, who we are, it's not _my_ call. It can't be. We can't sacrifice any one of us for the greater good, because _we are_ the greater good. Each and every one of us" he said and looked at each member of the group before going on.

" _We_ 're the reason we're still here, not me. Not you. Not her. Not him. _We_. This is life and death.  
How you live, how you die. It isn't up to me. I'm not your Governor."

Another pause, as everyone just listened.

"We've all made mistakes because of doing everything on our own. But that stops now. Once and for all.   
_We_ choose to go, _we_ choose to stay. We stick together. We vote. We can stay and we can fight, or we can go."

There was one final pause, and Rick looked at Connor again, who just nodded and waited for the others to say something.  
The whole group exchanged a few glances and some of them muttered something, but after just a few moments they seemed to have settled their minds.

"I want to stay" said Carl, and Beth nodded as well after looking at her father.

"Me, too."

Hershel sighed. He took Beth's hand and nodded slowly.

"Well I can't leave you here all by yourself."

"We're staying, too" said Glenn and Maggie just nodded.

"I think we should leave" Andrea said after a while, and Michonne just stood there and rubbed her back.

"There's no way I'm staying out there another winter. Not with Judith" Carol countered and looked at the small bundle in her arms.

Rick then looked at Connor, who folded his arms and chewed on his lower lip for a while, trying to think everything through.

"Y'know my opinion" he told the policeman and shifted.

"Whatever we're gonna do, 'm not goin anywhere without Daryl, and he ain't going real far with this sort of injury."

Rick nodded. He considered all answers for a while and then nodded.

"Alright. We're staying. I'm not going to lie. This is going to be our greatest challenge yet" he went on and looked at the rest of the group again.

"But we can manage, just like we've fought our way through everything so far. And we can solve this by working together.  
We can do that by letting everyone do what they can do best."

He started walking and stared at the surrounding walls of the prison.

"We need to make sure that this place is secure. We've got fences, towers and walls surrounding the entire area, we've put up tire traps on the field since that last attack, and we're using the walkers to help us protect the property from snipers and attacks on foot. We need to make sure we secure all the breaches, put up more defences and make out escape routes for supply runs and emergencies. If everyone really works on all that, then I think we're going to be just fine. We weren't prepared last time they attacked us. This time we are" Rick explained and a few nodded.

The former policeman then turned around to look at Connor again, who was listening and watching the whole scenario with a worried frown.

"All we need now is a decent strategy and plan" he said and kept looking at the Irishman, making it obvious that he wanted him to speak up.

Connor was surprised that Rick was really going to pull this through, that he really was going to step down a bit more. After staring back at the policeman for a while to make out what all this was about he finally came to the conclusion that their leader really meant the whole democracy thing, and it actually really looked like part of the old Rick from back at the farm was back. Connor stepped forward with a sigh and nodded.

"Alright. Here's te plan."


	63. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

If it hadn't been his plan, then Connor would have asked who was so fucking stupid to come up with a plan like this. It shouldn't be any different from his previous job in Ireland, but truth was that it was _completely_ different. Yes, he was also leading dumb things around to get them where he wanted, but these here weren't sheep, they were people. _Dead_ people.

Connor kept making noise. He was yelling at them and banged the stick on the old pan, and although the walkers weren't interested in eating him they were interested in the noise, which was why they would follow him nevertheless.

He was well aware of the many things that could go wrong. They had used the many cars from the parking lot and all the wood panels they had left to build some sort of temporary tunnel, which was leading the undead horde away from the field in front of the prison, and into cell block D. Only one wooden panel needed to give in and the walkers could start spreading out into their prison yard, which was the exact opposite of what they wanted to achieve. Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Andrea and Michonne were keeping watch outside the construction in case walkers escaped, but somehow that didn't make Connor feel any better about it.

Once again he couldn't stop thinking about how stupid his plans were, no matter how genius they were at the same time. He could almost hear Daryl yell at him for using himself as bait, but it was the anger over Daryl's injury that kept him going, just like the fact that he was the only one who could do it. Not only because he had been a shepherd in Ireland and knew how to guide large herds of dumb animals, but also because of his immunity. But he still didn't know how the walkers really acted around him, and he certainly wasn't safe because every once in a while there would be an undead who tried to attack him, but an aggressive shove usually did some magic.

The Irishman was leading the walkers further inside the cell block, and soon away from the cells and into the maze of corridors. For months he had hated those stinking bastards because they were dangerous, disgusting vultures who had bit him and killed Murphy and so many other members of their group, but just for today he couldn't bring himself to hate them. He actually loved them and all the opportunities they brought with them.

So maybe Woodbury really was stronger than them, and maybe the town really had more gunmen, but that didn't mean that their army was larger than that of the prison group. Although most of their team had been sceptical at first they had still agreed with his plan to use the walkers against the enemy. Connor knew that they stood little to no chance in a battle outside. They needed to make sure the prison looked abandoned, so they could lure the Woodbury fighters deeper inside the complex, deeper inside the maze.

He wanted to use his knowledge about them just like their own experience. Just like his own group most of the people from Woodbury were civilians. Military wannabes who had survived the fight against undead dumb people and thought they were invincible now, except that they weren't. He remembered how they had felt when they had first entered the prison, without knowing what was inside and with all the darkness surrounding them. Even he had been scared shitless that first day in here. And this was exactly what he wanted to recreate for Woodbury now. Only three times worse. He wanted this place to go back to day zero, he wanted it to be filled with walkers and surprises - the perfect mouse trap.

And that idea was what kept him going, although it really was scary to be leading all the walkers in here on his own.

The slight fear and nervousness soon turned into frustration and anger, because he had completely forgotten about the obvious: walkers were mindless undead people, with no sense of direction, unity or understanding. Their muscles and joints were rotting just like their brain, which not only made them dangerous, it also made them...

Incredibly fucking _slow_.

It took him forever to guide the bloodthirsty mob to the large boiler room where he wanted to lock them in, and it took him even longer to actually get them inside without having to lock himself in or without forgetting any of them. Although he hated to be near them and everything was freaking disgusting he soon found himself shoving and kicking the undead inside, trying to ignore each scary moment when one of them would actually try to attack him. After more than one hour he could finally close the door, locking at least 50 walkers in there, who were now waiting to be let out and couldn't wait to bury their teeth in the flesh of the enemy.

Connor let out a loud and frustrated sigh and wiped the sweat off his forehead.  
And now he had to do the same shit in their cell block C. _Fan-freaking-tastic._

A loud bang on the door startled him, because some of the walkers were now trying to get out again, attracted by the noise he'd just made.

"Shut up!" the Irishman growled and kicked the door.

He then turned around and lit a cigarette as he walked back.

He really hoped that the others were done packing over there, because he could almost feel how time was running out. They had killed the Governor more than 12 hours ago. He was pretty sure that Woodbury had sent out a team by now to go look for him, and maybe they had even discovered his body by now. It would take them another couple of hours until someone took over and led them here. He was absolutely sure of that. And even if the attack wouldn't happen today, he really wanted to be prepared. No matter what. And that as quickly as possible.

Connor walked down the corridor that led back to the main cells, and he made sure that he had not forgotten any walker on his way here. The place needed to be secure for a little while longer, so they could get back in here and let the walkers loose as soon as Woodbury arrived. He didn't want any members of his own group to die, but right now it didn't really look like there were any walkers left.

He startled and lost his cigarette when he walked around the corner and ran right into some one.  
He was only seconds away from stabbing the person when he finally noticed that it was Andrea who had followed him.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" Connor muttered and then inspected the cigarette burn on his shirt as he tried to wipe the ash away.

"I need to talk to you" the blonde woman said and Connor started walking again, because he knew what this was about and because he didn't want to waste any time.

"Ye don't say" he muttered and got grumpy because he couldn't smoke anymore.

Andrea followed him and didn't seem to want to leave him be.

"What you're planning is sick. Nothing but a slaughter of innocent people."

Connor snorted and turned around to look at Andrea in disbelief.

"Innocent? They tortured Maggie and Glenn. They shot Axel and Oscar. They watched and cheered when yer boyfriend wanted to let Daryl and Merle kill each other. They killed Merle and almost killed Daryl. There's a torture chamber right in the middle of yer town and they wanted t'kill ye. They're far from innocent, missy. If it weren't fer us then this psycho village would've killed ye, too" he said and started walking again.

Andrea kept following him and shook her head.

"That wasn't them, it was Phillip. And his henchmen. Martinez, Shumpert, Mike, Andy. But not the group that's on their way over here. There's child soldiers with them.  
An 14-year old asthmatic, women. I won't let you slaughter them like that."

"Well ye don't have to, cos I won't slaughter them. 'm just after the evil ones. The sickos. Whoever shoots at us despite our warnings will eat a bullet or get eaten by walkers. As simple as that. And by that I mean everyone excluding te kid and women. 'm not stupid, Andrea. This whole thing here's there t'seperate the wheat from the chaff. I know what te fuck 'm doing. End of discussion."

Andrea placed a hand on the Irishman's shoulder, which made him wince and struggle because it had been his injured one. The woman let go because of that, but wouldn't stop talking.

"No. If we do this, use terror and violence instead of negotiation, then we're not any better than Phillip. I mean just look at you all. You treated me like an enemy when I got back here the first time. Rick was willing to hand Michonne over to torture and death just to safe this godforsaken place, and then Daryl literally slaughtered Phillip like an animal. What happened to you people while I was gone that you're so cruel and...barbaric?"

Connor stopped walking again and looked at Andrea through narrowed eyes.

"So what do ye suggest we do? Walk over t'Woodbury? Bring flowers and candy and beg on our knees?"

Andrea let out an annoyed snort.

"No, I'm suggesting that we go over there with Rick, Carl, the baby, and make them see that you're not terrorists. We'll let Maggie and Glenn talk about the abduction that started everything, I can back up your talk, and so does Milton. People trust him, he's been there since the beginning and he's seen Phillip change. We can show Woodbury all the secret places not even I knew about until my last day. We can show them the torture chair, the wrecked army cars, Phillip's sick aquarium with the heads. We can open their eyes and make them see that they've been mislead by a psychopath. We can still do the right thing."

Connor laughed angrily and shook his head.

"Like they're gonna buy shit and accept a peace-offering after yer dear boyfriend hyped them all up? Not t'speak about how we _did_ kill their leader. And now you're here, and ye knew us before all this shit. Doesn't make ye very trust-worthy amongst them all either. And there's no fuckin way we're using te kids as bait. Just a couple of days ago you told me they'd probably start shooting as soon as they saw us. Hey, 'm all fer reasoning, but sometimes ye gotta make them learn the hard way. All the good guy talk'll just make it worse and get people injured or killed. Look what happened t'Dale."

Andrea just looked at him in surprise, hurt written all over her face at the mention of her friend's violent death. Connor knew that he was being mean, but he was way too sick of all the good guy talk, and he was way too angry because Daryl had been hurt because of all the people around him trying to solve the issue by simple talking.

"There is no good and bad anymore, Andrea. And there certainly is no more innocent and guilty. You do fucked up evil shit and you die. 's why Rick killed Shane, 's why Daryl and I killed cannibals and 's why Daryl killed the Governor. But there's also no innocence anymore. Yer t'good fer this world and ye can't bring yerself t'do certain questionable shit and y'die. 's why your sweet sister died, 's why Sophia died,'s why Dale died, 's why Merle's last act of bravery killed him, 's why my brother died so fucking early. People that are as white as a fucking sheet because of their goodness die. I admire yer strong morality and humanity, but shit like that will destroy you and kill you sooner or later. No more black and white. Only grey survives in the end" the Irishman said and started walking once more, but even after that long speech Andrea still wouldn't let go.

"I don't want anyone to die, just listen to me, we can make this work!"

"I'm not gonna kill everyone, just the ones who deserve it" Connor muttered and walked around the corner, only to let out a relieved sigh when they reached the main cell block. He thanked god that he wasn't to far from escaping her nagging now.

"And who decides who deserves to die and who doesn't, you?"

"Aye" he answered, and the topic was done for him.

Andrea soon could keep up anymore, and Connor walked even faster to get out, because he wanted everything to be done, and because he wanted to make sure that everyone was safe.

He found the rest of the group still inside cell block C which pissed him off a bit. He wanted to fill this place with walkers, too, and part of him just wanted them gone already. When he saw Rick with Hershel and Judith he walked over to them, but not without telling Beth, Carol and Maggie to get a move on first. The three women gave him an annoyed look but still carried the boxes a little faster, and before Connor got to complain even more he was already standing in front of Rick and Hershel.

"Did ye get more flash bangs and grenades?" he asked which made the former policeman turn around and look at him.

Rick was carrying his baby and watched the rest of the group for a moment, and then he finally nodded.

"Yeah. They're on the bridge and inside the old office tables in the yard."

Connor nodded.

"Aye, good" he muttered and then looked at Hershel.

"What about the speaker system, intercom and tape recorder?"

"Glenn's still working on it. Almost done."

Connor grunted when Carl suddenly walked right into him on purpose, shoved him out of the way and kept going with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hey!" the Irishman complained and looked after the kid, only to turn his head and look at Carl's father again.

"Te fuck's wrong with him?"

"He wants to fight with us" Rick said and all three men watched the young boy grab two bags and walk out of the room.

Connor sighed and put his healthy hand on his hips.

"What, ye'd rather let him stay here and get shot t'shit? Be my guest" he muttered and looked at Rick again.

"You okay with te plan?"

It was very obvious that Rick didn't really -like- the plan, but their leader had never said anything against it ever since they had made the decision this morning.

"Everyone wants to stay here and protect this place. And your plan is better than sitting around here waiting for them to shoot us up again."

Connor nodded.

"Aye. My thinking" he said and turned around because he wanted to get started on moving the makeshift tunnel towards their cell block rather than towards cell block D where it was pointing at right now. He had made only two steps when Hershel suddenly called out. Connor stopped walking again and turned around to wait for the old man, who was limping in his direction.

"There's two things I would like to talk about before we go."

Connor frowned, confusion written all over his face.

"Aye?"

"Rick and I made the decision that Beth, Carl, Judith and me will go with Andrea and Michonne as soon as bullets start flying."

The Irishman frowned even more and looked at Rick, who just looked back at him and nodded.

"What? Are ye mental? You do know that Michonne and Andrea can't protect everyone over there, and that my idea might go wrong.  
's pretty fucking dangerous, old man."

Hershel nodded and looked at Andrea, who had now entered the cell block as well and was giving the Irishman a couple of angry looks which he ignored completely.

"I know, but Andrea told us about a couple of people. People we know and who are decent. They were here before things went..." he stopped a moment and looked at Rick, who swallowed and looked down at his newborn child, seemingly embarrassed by something.

"When things were a little difficult. And we also met another man from Woodbury, the one who took care of you. Rick, Andrea and I are positive that they won't do us any harm over there, especially with all the dangerous ones gone and fighting you here. God's watching over us, and even if things go awry, we'll stick to the rest of the plan. Flee and head back to the agreed meeting point over at the old storage units should anything seem conspicuous."

Connor stared at Rick a little while longer before turning his head to let his gaze wander. He could see Beth and Carl enter and leave the cell block for the second time, then he looked at the baby in Rick's arms again and after doing that for a while he looked down and sighed.

"If Rick's fine with it. Isn't really up t'me. They're his children, it's yer daughter, yer life and your decision. Woodbury it is then.   
But please be fuckin careful. And keep an extra eye on Daryl fer me, will ye?"

Hershel nodded and both men looked in the direction of the prison cells, where Daryl was still in bed and unconscious.

"What's the other thing ye wanna talk about?" Connor asked after a moment and looked at the old man again.

Hershel nodded and looked him in the eye as well.

"You know I'm not a big fan of your plan.."

Connor bit his upper lip and looked down. It still annoyed him how everyone kept criticizing his plan. He had thought that he was used to all the bitching, considering that his brother had been an expert at that, but he was far from staying cool now. He finally understood why Rick had been so stressed out and tense all the time. The group really was exhausting.

"But I do understand that all of this is necessary. I know that we need every fighting hand we can get right now, and I also know that my daughter is a strong and independent woman."

Connor looked him in the eye then, because he knew that this was important to Hershel.

"But if something happens to her or her fiancé during this battle, then you'll have to face me.   
Because I will make you responsible for everything that hurts her or puts her in danger."

The Irishman nodded slowly and put a hand on Hershel's shoulder.

"I promise I'm gonna keep yer daughter safe."

As soon as he let go the request made him frown.

"Fiancé though? What te fuck have I missed now?"

Hershel chuckled and nodded.

"A lot, apparently."

Connor couldn't say anything to that, because then the flickering of lights and the crackling of the intercom startled everyone inside the building.

"H..hello? Can you guys here me? This working?" they heard Glenn's voice echo all over the building, which made Connor cheer and everyone look up at the ceiling.

"That's my boy!" the Irishman said and clapped.

A moment later the loud buzzing and roaring of the alarm system went off, which they'd last heard when Andrew had attacked them.   
The noise stopped after a moment but had made Judith cry. Rick was having quite some trouble with her, which was why Carol came over to help him.

Connor had a look around the ceiling and nodded.

"Well, there's another one we can cross off the list. Maggie, Carol! Did ye check the East Wing?"

Hershel's daughter nodded while she passed him to head for the door.

"Done" she informed him, and Connor kept nodding.

"Good. Good."

"Alright, get the cars, make sure everything is secured and ready to go" Rick joined in as he got ready himself, now that Carol was the one holding his child.

Connor passed him and nudged their leader as he headed for the cell block.

"Alright, let's go get Daryl."

Rick nodded and followed the Irishman.

"Hershel and Glenn found some riot suits. But there's only three of them. I reckon that our snipers should were them.   
Meaning you, Glenn and Maggie" he said which made Connor nod.

"Aye, good idea. Better safe than sorry."

"I was gonna talk to you about Michonne as well. I think we should make her stay. She's good with her katana and an expert at close combat."

Connor shook his head as he opened the door to the cell in which they kept injured Daryl.

"Nah, we need every possible face and story those Woodbury fucks can remember t'make Andrea believable. She spent some time over there. And that without causing too much trouble. If my plan really works then we should be doing just fine here. Trust me, my plans always work. More or less. And maybe.."

He stopped mid sentence when he noticed Daryl, who was still lying in bed, but whose eyes were now open and staring back at him.

"'s 'bout time y'all get me outta here" the hunter growled, voice weak and croaky, but certainly not lacking the stubbornness.

"Te fuck" Connor gasped, and Rick smiled.

"You're awake" the policeman noted which made Daryl nod.

The hunter tried to sit up but failed miserably. One tiny bit of movement made him groan and wince, and Connor finally knew how to react again.

"Careful!" he exclaimed and approached his friend to help him sit.

"Ow, that hurt, asshole" Daryl mumbled when Connor moved him once more.

Once the two men had made sure that the injured hunter was in a comfortable position Connor kept his arms where they were, and wrapped them even tighter around his friend.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, I thought you was gonna fuckin die you fuckin asshole" he muttered into Daryl's naked shoulder as he fully got into the hug.

Emotion suddenly rushed over him because he had not been prepared for this, that he could really talk to his friend so soon after seeing him getting shot in the chest.

"Fuck fuck fuck" he muttered, and added even more pressure, ignoring the fact that he was scratching his friend because he was really burying his nails in his had been grumpy and worried all morning because he had hated seeing Daryl unconscious for so long. He wasn't used to such a long separation anymore, and he sure as hell didn't want to experience it ever again.

"I'm gonna leave you two alone for a bit. Help the others" he heard Rick say, but right now it didn't really matter because Daryl was _fucking_ alive and awake after all the horror yesterday.

"If yah keep squeezin like that yah gonna _get_ me killed, freak" Daryl grunted, but somehow still squeezed back at bit.

Connor finally let go so he could get a better look at his friend.

Daryl certainly didn't look or sound good. There were dark shadows under his eyes, he was very pale, the usually tense and strong muscles looking limb and weak now. The hunter could hardly keep himself upright and it was obvious that he was in much pain. He placed a gentle hand on the bandage, to start feeling and scratching.

"The fuck happened" he mumbled, voice determined and yet weak.

Connor could almost still hear the shot ringing in his ears as images of blood and bullets flying flashed before his eyes. He could feel it again, how his friend's blood had soaked his shirt as he had held him and carried him. When he had been running and running and so fucking _scared._.. Anger suddenly rushed over him, and he leaned forward so he could start hitting Daryl's thigh with his flat palm, and that as hard as he could.

"You almost fuckin died's what fuckin happened! I told ye t'let me drive the fuckin car, and I told ye t'take it easy and you!didn't!really!fuckin!kill!him!" he snapped, underlining each of the last words with a hard slap.

Daryl winced and soon started yelling at his friend as well because it hurt, although he wasn't really yelling, and they weren't really fighting. They both eventually calmed down and relaxed, and it got more and more obvious that Daryl really was exhausted and couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer.

Connor wiped his face with a tired sigh and then looked at his friend again. He was so happy to see him awake, but the sight also upset him a bit. He was used to Daryl being strong and bitchy. The scars on his chest didn't exactly make the sight any better, so the Irishman decided to keep his eyes fixed on his friend's tired face.

"Te Governor shot you. Andrea and I took ye back here. You almost didn't make it. But Hershel took care of ye and stitched ye up fer good."

For a moment he looked at his friend's bandaged arm, right where they had done the transfusion.  
He was well aware of the large bruises on his own arm and hoped that Daryl couldn't make the connection right now.

He didn't want his friend to know yet.

Not about the blood, not about what had really happened back at the infirmary. He knew that Daryl was in a rather fragile state right now, and he didn't want to freak him out and stress him even more. Daryl seemed a bit confused as he checked his body and tried to make out what had happened to him, but he didn't seem to question him. The hunter gently felt his arm a bit longer and then looked at his friend again, concern written all over his face.

"What 'bout Merle? Everything's a bit of a blur t'be honest" he mumbled and rubbed his head.

Connor's blood ran cold when he heard that and for a moment he seriously didn't know what to say.  
He put a hand on his mouth and started rubbing, unsure what to answer.

"Well..." he mumbled and felt even more uncomfortable when he saw the concerned look on Daryl's face.

Right then he heard Rick yell his name, and for the first time he actually thanked god for having someone interrupt his conversations.

"Let's talk about this later, aye? Ye should rest. Everything's gonna be alright, brother" he muttered and patted Daryl's thigh as he got up to leave.

Daryl kept staring at him like that and tried to grab his arm to hold him back, but he was already getting weaker and weaker and it really looked like he could fight the exhaustion much longer anyway. Connor left the cell without another word, and for a second he actually had to grab his rosary and started praying.

_Please, god. Let this be temporary. Don't make 'im lose his brother twice._


	64. Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

It was done. The prison was prepared for whatever battle was about to happen. Connor had been busy all morning, which was why he'd never had any time to worry about anything. But now that it was done he felt slightly nervous, because it had been far too long since he'd last fought a whole armed group like that. The Irishman was standing in the prison yard and let his gaze wander around the fence.  
  
They had managed to lure as many walkers to them as possible, and now there were countless undead piling up on the fences, shaking, growling and snapping at them. The group knew that the walkers wouldn't really keep the Woodbury soldiers away from them, but it would make the whole entering their prison harder for the enemy. Not to speak about the noise they were going to make as soon as they started killing and shooting the walkers.

The loud slam of a car door made Connor turn around. He could see the rest of the group getting ready to leave. The part of the group that was going to get out of here would be taking two cars, the Hyundai and one from the parking lot. There was a part of the Irishman that just wanted to screw everything and go with them, but he knew that they were too deep inside this whole mess by now, that they had riled up too many people and that they needed to end this somehow.  
  
Maybe his idea wasn't going to work, maybe they would all end up dying, but they couldn't keep going like that. If they didn't finish this now then the whole thing would go on forever, the living in fear for the rest of their lives, the constant threat of an attack and a never ending war with a whole town of complete nutters.

No. They needed to do this.

Connor approached one of the cars, the one in which they kept Daryl. His friend was going to be in the car with Hershel, Carl and Judith, whereas Andrea and Michonne were going to take Beth with them in the other car. This whole arrangement didn't exactly sit right with him, because he wanted his injured friend to be protected, but he figured that this was better than having Daryl right here in the line of fire.

"Everything alright?" he asked Hershel as he stepped closer to the car to have a look inside.

Daryl was already in there in the backseat, seated as securely and comfortable as possible, while being careful not to open his wounds. His friend was asleep again, since he was still rather weak. He had fainted soon after their talk while Connor had been busy filling the other cell block with walkers, and part of him was glad because of that. The Irishman still didn't know if his friend really couldn't remember what had happened to his brother, but he would have to deal with that later.

"Still feverish, and I don't think traveling will do him good. But what else can we do?"

Connor nodded and put a hand on Hershel's shoulder.

"Aye. Yer right. Look after him, will ye?" he asked and Hershel nodded as well.

"I will."

Connor then made his way over to the other car, where Michonne and Beth were busy putting bags in the trunk. Andrea was standing close to the drivers door where she was speaking to Rick. The two seemed to have finished their conversation just now, because the policeman walked away and Andrea turned around. She was looking at Connor, arms folded, and leaned against the car.

"You sure about all this? I just talked to Rick and..." she greeted him once again.

Connor sighed and stopped walking.

"Aye 'm sure. You said so yerself. Not all of 'em can be trusted. Best way t'get rid of 'em."

Andrea took a deep breath and just looked at him.

"You all could just come with us. This is your last chance to do the right thing. Please. Think about the others. Think about Daryl."

The Irishman just looked back at her.

"I am thinking about him."

"And what do you want me to tell him if they manage to kill you? What if they kill you all today?"

Connor snorted.

"I ain't gonna die" he said and then nudged Andrea's shoulder as well.

"You get my girlfriend over there in one piece, will ye?"

Andrea just nodded and rubbed her neck.

"Yeah" she said, still not liking the whole plan at all.

Connor then walked over to Rick, who was currently checking some of the office tables to make sure the flashbangs were secured.

"I think they're ready" Connor muttered as he watched the group put the last couple of bags inside.

Rick got up and watched them as well, and it was obvious that he was just as nervous. The former policeman watched his son carry another bag to the trunk, and Carl would greet him with just another angry glare. Ever since they had made the decision to send him away with the others the younger Grimes was angry at them.

"Yeah" their leader answered and cleaned his hands on his jeans.

"Question is: are we?"

Connor didn't say anything to that, he just watched how the others got inside the car.

Michonne came over to join them then.

"We're ready"she announced and both men nodded. Rick and Connor exchanged a few glances, then Rick started walking.

"Alright. Remember the plan. If all this goes south, we'll make our way back to the storage units. There's no need for any more unnecessary deaths.  
Be careful, keep it low, look after each other. Especially after my son."

He approached Carl then, ignoring the fact how his child wanted to turn his back on him. Connor could also see how Maggie was saying goodbye to her father and sister, and when he noticed how Carol was by the car next to Daryl and he had nothing else to do he decided to walk over there as well. He slowed down because he didn't want to interrupt Carol's talk with his friend, but she was looking at him anyway and gave him a gentle smile.

"Shame he's not awake to see all this, isn't it?" she muttered and then looked at Daryl again, while holding and squeezing his hand for a bit.

Connor chuckled.

" _Thank god_ he's knocked out. He'd kick my ass big time fer all this shit" he said and came closer.

They both looked at Daryl again, and Connor could tell that Carol was just as nervous as all the others.  
The Irishman sighed and put his healthy hand in his pocket.

"Ye don't have t'stay here, Carol" he said, which made the woman look at him.

"If ye wanna go with him.." he went on, but she shook her head.

"No. I want to help. He wouldn't want you to fight them off all on your own. It's something I have to do."

Connor smirked.

"Yer really tough, anyone ever tell ye that?"

Carol smirked as well.

"Nine lives" she just said and got up.

"I'll leave you two alone" she went on and then stroke his healthy shoulder while passing him. She suddenly stopped then.

"And thank you."

Connor frowned.

"For what?"

Carol looked at sleeping Daryl.

"For bringing him back to us. And saving his life."

The Irishman looked at his friend as well and shrugged.

"He saved mine plenty of times. 's what friends do."

Carol nodded.

"I know. But I still wanted to thank _you_. I know I wasn't exactly considerate when you came back.  
I was just scared of you and your blood."

Connor wouldn't say anything to that. It was true that Carol had made him feel uncomfortable at first, whenever she had mentioned how much he scared her. He still remembered her words from that first night. _He's creeping me out. What if he infects us or turns? I don't want him near us._ It wasn't like he was touchy. And it also wasn't like it had hurt his feelings or anything like that, but still. She really hadn't been nice at all. Especially since she had been the one voicing his exact own fears.

"And now look at us. It did in fact save him rather than kill him. So really. I am sorry. And _thank you_ _."_

"Don't mention it" the Irishman muttered and then placed his healthy hand on hers for moment, to let her know that there never had been any hard feelings going on.

Carol smiled and then nodded, only to make her way over to the others so Connor could say goodbye to Daryl for now.  
The Irishman approached the car and then crouched down so he could be at eye-level with his friend.

"Hey, man" he greeted the hunter and then rubbed his mouth.

"Yeah I know, all this is pretty stupid right here, and shame on you fer not helping us" he muttered and let his gaze wander again.  
  
He could see all the walkers, all the barricades and traps they had build.  
In just a couple of minutes this whole place would be flodded with walkers, destroying all of their efforts to make this place safe.

"But it needs t'be done" he said more to himself than to Daryl.

He suddenly had doubts, and Andrea's nagging certainly played an important part there. _Maybe they really could just go over there with them?_ He shook his head and tried to remind himself of all the other things he had seen and heard about Woodbury. Child soldiers. People who knew about the fact that the Governor slaughtered army men and others just to get their ammo and supplies.  
  
All these bastards who had helped him with all these murders and tortures and god knows what kind of shit they had done. They would never be able to march into Woodbury and kill all the evil ones without making the good ones hate them and see them as terrorists. No. They needed to make them _understand_ that they didn't want to kill _everyone_ _,_ that they were the good ones.

He prayed to god that there really were some good ones left, because he was sending Daryl over there after all. He grabbed his rosary and started praying for his friend and for the group, and after doing that for a couple of minutes he came to the conclusion that this wasn't enough. He opened his eyes and looked at Daryl, stared at the bandage and pale skin and sighed. The Irishman took his rosary and lifted it up so he could get rid of it and then stroke the wooden surface while staring at it for a good couple of minutes.

"Y'know what" he muttered after thinking it through.

He then lifted the rosary up and put it around Daryl's neck instead.

"Hold on t'that fer me. God knows what kinda shit I might do t'day. Let's see if I'm worthy enough t'wear it after all this mess t'day."

He adjusted the rosary until it was lying right on top of the bullet wound, hoping to make it heal faster that way.

"Means god's watching over ye" he went on and smiled, because once again he could almost hear Daryl complain about it.

He nudged his friend's chest and then adjusted his seat belt.

"See ye later" he said then and got up, because he didn't want to spend too much time being with Daryl or else his doubts would get even worse.

Connor closed the door and then walked over to the rest of the group, where Maggie, Hershel and Beth were just done saying goodbye as well.

"Alright. Guess we're set. Remember: stay close, maybe nothing happens t'day. Better safe than sorry though. As soon as ye hear the first bullets fly and the alarm goes off you get away from here as fast as ye can and make yer way over t'Woodbury."

He reminded the drivers Andrea and Hershel, who nodded. He then looked at Glenn, Maggie, Carol and Rick.

"We're gonna stay here. And welcome the rest t'our little party."

* * *

It felt like he was still speeding down the road, chasing someone or something he didn't really know. The last thing Daryl really remembered was walking down some field, heading right for his friend, and he had been so relieved because something had happened, something he couldn't remember. Connor was standing there, almost like he was waiting for him to get his ass over there, but somehow Daryl could never get there. Whenever he was so _close_ he suddenly felt a burning sharp pain in his chest, like someone had stabbed him right in his lungs.

He also remembered the stabbing, remembered all the blood on his hands without really knowing where it was coming from, but when he looked down on himself he knew where it came from. He was bleeding. And it _hurt_. He didn't really remember falling, but then he was suddenly lying on his back, staring straight up at the sky while the pain got worse and his chest got wetter and wetter. It felt like he was back at the ridge when he had fallen as well, falling and falling with nothing but pain and blood and the wetness of the water that drenched his clothes just like the blood that was drenching them now.

The hunter stared straight up at the sky and then a face swam into view, but he was so confused and in so much pain that it looked like there were two faces instead of one. Two people instead of the only one he knew was right there, because he could hear his frantic screams and see the flash of tattoos. He knew Connor was there, because he had been walking in his direction, but right now Connor didn't really matter, because there was just the blue sky and the other person right next to him.

He recognized it. Short hair. Black shirt. One hand. Merle was standing there, right next to Connor who was ripping his shirt open and made him scream in pain. Daryl still couldn't stop staring at his brother, who crouched down next to him with that broad and evil smile on his face.

"Hey watcha screaming about, Darylena? Yah some pussy now cos of some little scratch, hm? Yah wanna attract more of them biters and make 'em kill yah and your boyfriend?"

Daryl coughed and tried to fight the hands that where feeling his chest and kept touching and touching the wound that _burned_ _._ Only part of him was aware how he was being stripped of his shirt and jacket, how Connor kept screaming and talking to him, but somehow he couldn't hear or see him, all he could see was his grinning brother, who was right next to his friend.

"I don't...I don't wanna..I ain't gonna die" he grunted and kept staring at his grinning and laughing brother, who grabbed him by his face and made him look at him.

Daryl just wanted to sleep because he was getting so tired and cold, but Merle wouldn't let him.

"Now yah listen t'me, little D" he said, but the younger Dixon's eyes still rolled back and he couldn't stop staring at the sky. He could hear and feel how both Merle and Connor were shaking him and talking to him, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the sky, the sun that was getting brighter and brighter until it was blinding him so much that he had to turn his head away.

The scenery suddenly changed around him and he was staring at cold and dirty tiles. Connor was there again but this time there were other people, too. His group, he could see them all. Hershel, Beth, Rick. Carol, who was standing there with a hand on her mouth and tears running down her cheeks. He could feel the intense pain in his chest again, which was only getting amplified by the fact that someone seemed to be pumping his chest over and over again.

And once again he couldn't stop staring, and then there he was again, his brother, walking past Carol with that grin. He leaned in to be face to face with him. Daryl could feel himself drift away again, like he was still inside the car, still speeding down the road, chasing something, heading somewhere he didn't know. There was a heaviness that clung to his entire body, pulling and pulling him down and calling him.

"Hey" Merle said and grabbed his face to make him look at him again.

"Don't be running baby brother" the older Dixon demanded while the pumping and yelling all around Daryl wouldn't stop.

"Yah gonna be a pussy for much longer? Or are yah gonna be a man for once?"

Daryl wanted to answer but couldn't, because there it was again, the heaviness, the calling, and when he finally managed to turn his head he was staring at...

The bottom of a bunk bed.

Connor was there once again but he couldn't see Merle, couldn't see his brother, and he was so confused and didn't know what the fuck was going on, and when even Connor couldn't answer him he asked for the only person he knew who could.

"What 'bout Merle? Everything's a bit of a blur t'be honest" he mumbled and rubbed his head.

And truth be told: a blur was an understatement. He was still in much pain, and still so incredibly sick, tired and dizzy, so when his friend told him to rest his obeyed without any protest. Just like the many strange times before he just wanted to sleep, just wanted to stop struggling and fighting, so he closed his eyes and it felt so good to let go, felt so good to just stop that he..

Daryl could feel how someone was shaking him and growled. He didn't want to wake up, not now, not when he was finally allowed to give in.

"Look atcha. Lying around sleepin all day while all the others do th'dirty work for ya.h Didn't raise yah t'be no lazy princess."

Although the younger Dixon hated all the mockings, he still had to smile whenever he heard that voice. Daryl turned his head slightly and was confused when he felt that he was actually sitting rather than lying. He couldn't remember getting up, but the scenery around him had changed so many times and so fast now that he didn't even mind it anymore. Whatever kind of trippy thing was going on right now, he was too exhausted and weak to care.

"Just tired, bro" Daryl muttered and shifted, only to finally open his eyes.

He was confused. He remembered lying in his bed back at the prison like..a _minute_ ago, so why the hell was he sitting inside a car all of a sudden? He frowned but vaguely remembered being inside a car. _Right_. He had been speeding. He had been chasing something. In a car. Yes. He remembered it now. Daryl turned his head to look at his brother. He could even see it behind him now. The road, the trees. The car wasn't moving, and now that he thought about it, he could actually explain himself why he was feeling so dizzy and why he was in pain.

The car. The chase. The tree.

Right. He had crashed the car. He could remember it now, the screeching of the tires, the twisting and turning, the collision with the tree.  
Merle was grabbing his face for the third time to make him look at him, and for the first time the younger Dixon was actually able to stay awake.

"Yah listen t'me now, little D. Yah gonna wake up now, and yah gonna stop goin after me."

Daryl answered his brother with a tired smirk but had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"Watcha talkin about. Just found yah. Ain't no way I ain't following you everywhere now."

Merle grabbed his face harder and shook his head.

"No, bro. 'member what I told you when we was talkin about your dear friend Rick's little plan?"

Daryl frowned and tried to concentrate, but it only made him feel even more dizzy and confused.

"You need t'grow up" Merle went on and his brother remembered the words now. They rang a bell in his head. A dangerous bell. He remembered bits and pieces of that conversation, and he knew that there was something important about it. Daryl stared at his brother with a confused frown, fear suddenly rushing over him.

"Yah don't need your old bro Merle no more. Never did. Never will. So stop lookin for me. Shoulda stopped lookin for me right back at Atlanta.  
Ain't no need for yah t'follow me. Not now. Ain't the time yet, little D. Ain't the time."

"The hell are yah talkin 'bout?" Daryl asked, which made Merle grin.

The younger Dixon startled when he heard the sudden and loud cry of a baby in the front seat, and the screams got louder and louder with every second. Daryl turned his head after a moment to look at his brother again, who patted his chest right where the pain was which made his younger half grunt.

"Do me proud, baby bro" he said and then turned around to walk away.

Daryl watched him leave with wide eyes.

"Merle!" he shouted and wanted to go after his brother, but a heavy weight on his lap wouldn't let him move.

"Merle!" he yelled once more and saw how the older Dixon was walking further and further away from the car, to a point where he almost couldn't see him anymore. Daryl struggled even more and turned his head to see what the fuck was keeping him inside this godforsaken car. He noticed the seatbelt that kept him in place and tried fighting it in panic, desperate to go after his brother.

He wanted to shout Merle's name once more, but when he turned his head again the yell died right in his throat because of the sudden shock. The screams of the baby were fully present now and ringing in his ears, but this wasn't the worst part. He was no longer staring at the face of his brother, no, this time there was someone else standing right next to him. Daryl widened his eyes and the shout for his brother turned into a surprised scream. Merle was gone, and he was only inches away from the rotten and bloody face of a walker.


	65. Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

Connor had thought that the battle itself would be the worst. Well, it looked like he was wrong. It was the absence of the battle that was the worst part, because there was nothing but boredom and waiting going on. He was beginning to doubt that Woodbury was going to attack them at all. He was also doubting that it was a good idea to keep the weakest members of their group waiting outside, with walkers being all around them. The Irishman was pacing up and down the bridge with a rifle in his hand. It was still rather hard for him to hold it with one of his hands being broken, but he happened to be a good shot so he had to carry it for a while.

But this wouldn't be the first thing he needed to do as soon as people started attacking them.

Connor looked down at the yard, where countless walkers were staggering around since they had opened the gates. The open gates were part of Connor's plan, and although he didn't really want the walkers to be IN here he had no choice. The gate needed to stay that way, so that Woodbury wouldn't crash it on their way here. They still needed the gate. And the undead.

He still felt a bit uneasy about all the others being here with him as well, because they could get attacked. He remembered what Hershel had told him. Should they get bit then it would be his fault. Should Maggie or Glenn get shot then it would be his fault. The Irishman sighed and turned his head to look over to the other bridge, where Glenn and Maggie were waiting for the attack just like him and Rick. Since it was his plan to be inside with their leader when the attack started Connor decided to head back inside cell block C, to have one final look at their home, and to make sure that everything was in place and that Carol was alright.

He found her inside the dining hall, where she was sitting at one of the tables and seemed rather nervous.  
Connor passed the woman on his way over to the cells and put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down a bit.  
Carol smiled weakly, but it didn't really look like it was helping her a lot.

"I hope they're alright out there" she muttered and gave her fears a voice.

Connor stopped walking then and smiled at her.

"'f course they are. They got Andrea and Michonne with 'em. And don't underestimate Carl these days."

"Well, what about Judith? What if she cries and attracts walkers?"

Connor squeezed her shoulder once more and waved it of.

"Hershel and Beth got it under control. Don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine. And remember, yer not really gonna be part of the fight as well. Besides, Daryl'd kick me ass should something happen t'you or the others. Everyone's gonna be okay. And it all ends t'day. Alright? God's on our side. He'll protect us. And them out there. I gave Daryl m'rosary to make sure of that. "

Carol smiled once more and this time she seemed to mean it.  
Connor smiled back and then let go of her, so he could get back to the cells to check them in case someone had forgotten to take something important with them.

He checked one cell after another and soon got lost in thoughts, remembering everything they had found in here, everything they had lost. He passed T-Dog cell and sighed, because T-Dog's death also reminded him of Lori's death. He automatically raised his head to look upstairs, right at the cell in which she had slept. He turned his head to the right and then looked at the cell in which he and Daryl had slept for the past couple of weeks.  
  
He felt a dull pain in his chest because of the worry and separation from his friend. He wondered how he was, if he was okay out there, if he was going to survive all this, if he was going to feel just as bad as he had felt when he had lost Murphy.

Ever since all the chaos around the shot had subsided he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that his best friend had lost his brother. He knew what it felt like, and he didn't want Daryl to feel like that at all. Not after months of him getting better, growing softer and more likable. He doubted that Daryl was going to be just as big of a mess as him, but still. Losing a family member was no picnic. It didn't matter if you got along well in the past or not.

Connor shook his head with an angry growl and stopped looking upstairs. _No, he needed to stop worrying about that_. They had more important things to do right now. He needed a clear mind for now. No worries. No doubts. No questions. Just sheer concentration and a plan. Connor was on his way over to the other door that led back to the maze of corridors when he suddenly noticed a book on a table in one of the cells.

He stepped closer with a frown and tried to remember whose cell it had been. After doing some thinking he came to the conclusion that it had belonged to Hershel and Beth, so he was pretty sure that they had forgotten it here. He stepped closer and took the book, and after looking at the cover he had no doubt. Yep. This had been Hershel's cell. The old man had forgotten his bible.

Connor took it with a sigh and shook his head. For a second he had to look up at the ceiling and couldn't fight the little smile that broke through. _Maybe Hershel had not forgotten it here on purpose. Maybe this was a sign from god, maybe this was him letting him know that he was watching over them._ The Irishman chuckled and shook his head once more.

"I gave my rosary t'Daryl and ye have t'make sure I still carry something with me? Nice try. 's about time you kissed my ass after all the shit you've done t'me" he muttered and already wanted to leave the cell, when an idea suddenly struck him.

For the past couple of hours of waiting he hadn't just been struggling because of Daryl and all the others around him. No, he still couldn't stop thinking about Andrea's words, what she had told him. That there were teenagers who were about to attack them. Kids. Women. Old people. All kinds of people that he would never hurt or kill but that would be in the line of fire nevertheless. He looked at the bible in his hands for a while and then started flicking through the pages.

Maybe there was one more way to keep the innocent from entering the maze and getting involved in the whole thing without anyone really wanting that. Maybe he just needed to warn them, remind them that they were about to do something very stupid. Just like back in Boston in the courtroom, when he had warned other people by letting god speak. Maybe this was just like that. He kept flicking through the pages until he finally found the words he was looking for.

_And shall come forth, they that have done good, unto resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of **damnation.**_

Connor nodded and lay the bible on the table like that, wide open, and after searching for a while he finally found a pen to mark that very quote.  
This warning would be enough to make the right ones understand, and the evil ones shake with fear. It wasn't just a warning, it was a _threat_.  
Because hell would be waiting for them past those doors to the corridors.

Just then a loud bang startled the Irishman. A minute later he could hear gunshots and the sound of fast footsteps that were echoing through the hall.  
Connor left the cell in a hurry to see what was going on, but Carol and Rick were already standing in the door to the dinning hall.

"They're here."

* * *

Judith's screams were deafening, and now that Daryl was fully awake again he could finally see and understand what was going on. Their car was surrounded by trees, close to a street. There was another car right next to the one he was sitting in. He was still trapped because of the seat belt that was keeping him in place, but the seatbelt was the least of his problems. There were walkers all around the cars, and he could hear even more shouting and shooting outside. There were a couple of violent and loud explosions very close to them, and then he could hear the sounds of rapid gunfire. It sounded like there was a war going on.

He was so confused.

_Where the hell was he? Who were they fighting? Walkers? How many of them were there? Where was the rest of their group?_  
 _And why the fuck was he all alone inside this godforsaken car with Judith?_

Another yelp escaped his mouth when the whole thing got worse and he remembered the other problem. The car door was open. There was a walker standing right next to him. Growling and snapping and reaching out with his dirty bloody hands. Daryl let out another surprised scream when the undead suddenly darted forward and landed right on his lap.  
  
The hunter searched his pants in horror only to discover that someone had taken his knife, and every ever so slight movement sent a burning pain through his chest. Judith screams got louder and louder to a point where he almost couldn't hear anything anymore, and it seemed like it only attracted even more walkers to the car.

He was even more surprised when the walker on his lap seemed to be reaching for the crying baby on the passenger seat instead of attacking him. Daryl still panicked, trying to fight the seat belt and walker at the same time, trying to find anything to kill the rotten undead that was about to fucking _eat_ him. He finally managed to free himself and frantically used the seatbelt to wrap it around the walker's throat, ignoring the incredible pain in his chest and how the world started spinning because of the abrupt movement.

Daryl gathered all the strength he could gather and pulled as hard as he could, dragging the walker away from the crying baby like a dog on a leash. The walker made the most inhumane gurgling and growling noises because of the strangulation, and although it was obviousl that its neck was about to get broken the undead still kept pulling, trying to get back to crying Judith.

Daryl couldn't keep doing that forever. The pain in his chest was so intense that it sent tears to his eyes and made him groan just as loud as the walker, but there was no other choice. He needed to protect little asskicker, and he knew that if he let go of the walker now then not only the baby would get eaten, he would be the first in line to end up as a walker happy meal. But he got weaker and weaker, and just when he was about to throw the walker outside the car he noticed another extremely skinny and shirtless walker. He that was staggering in his direction with wide eyes, bare teeth clicking and snapping at him, ready to attack.

_Oh fuck. This was it._

Daryl grunted and kept shoving and pulling the walker he was still keeping in place with the seat belt, trying anything he could to get him out so he could close the door. The other walker kept coming closer and closer, and he was only inches away from the car now.

_Oh fuck fuck fuck. Where the hell was everybody? Where was Connor? Where was Rick? He was freaking dying over here!_

The other walker was really close now and Daryl tried to keep him away with his leg, ignoring both the pain and the obvious threat that he could get bitten any second now. Even if he was scared and could die any second, there was no way he wouldn't go down fighting, and there was no way he wouldn't die protecting the baby.  
  
He kicked as hard as he could and managed to make the walker outside stumble, but right then he lost grip of the other walker and let out another terrified scream. He squeezed his eyes shut in horror and waited for the bite that was about to happen.

_This was it._

He just knew it. And although Daryl was still kicking and fighting he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes again during these very last couple of seconds, because right then he had to think about everything Connor had told him. _We fell down, he right on top af me. I managed ta grab my gun but a gunshot startled me an I lost grip af him. 't was literally the most painful experience in me life._

_He didn't want to die, why didn't those undead fucks understand? Not now, not after everything!_

He squeezed his eyes shut even more and kept yelling and fighting, but somehow the bite wouldn't happen. When he opened his eyes again it was just in time for him to witness how the two walkers were being stabbed in the head with a long and extremely sharp blade. A second later a dark hand grabbed the freshly killed walker from his lap and pulled him out of the car. Daryl finally noticed that his chest was heaving and pulsating with nothing but pain because of the movement.   
  
He felt his chest and his arms in horror to check for bites. When he turned his head again to look outside he saw that Michonne was standing right in front of him, katana high in the air as she struck out to decapitate another walker that got too close to the vehicle he was sitting in. Once she had killed the undead she suddenly turned around and stared him right in the eye.

"Stay in the car. Look after the baby, lock the doors" she demanded and slammed to door shut just in time to fight another bunch of walkers.

Daryl's heart was still pounding in his chest as he tried to figure everything out. He had awoken just a minute ago and found himself in all this chaos, thrown in here just like that. He could hear the sounds of fighting going on outside, and when he looked out of the window he could finally see it clearly. There was a shitton of walkers staggering around the area. He could hear gunshots, he saw Michonne, Andrea, Hershel, Beth and Carl fight the countless undead that were slowly closing in on their cars.

But this didn't seem to be the only fight that was going on here. When he looked past the small fighting group he noticed the smoke that was coming from somewhere past the small hill, right outside the forest they were hiding in. More and more gunshots seemed to be coming from over there, and although Daryl was still so confused he was beginning to understand what was going on. They were outside the prison. And it looked like Woodbury had started attacking them. Maybe they had made their way out of there, maybe all the shots and the fire had attracted all the walkers around them.

Daryl felt his aching chest and then opened his shirt a bit to see where the pain was coming from, and when he saw the bandage it dawned on him as well.  
Right. He had been shot. He remembered his talk with Connor. _How many days had passed since that?_ He also noticed that something was strangling him and grabbed his throat to feel what it was. His fingertips touched something that felt like pearls, and when he shifted the thing a bit a cross suddenly slid down his chest and landed on his stomach.

Connor's rosary.

_Why the fuck was he wearing his rosary?_

Daryl grabbed it and looked outside again, trying to make out his friend in all the mess. He couldn't see him. Connor was freaking _nowhere_.  
Daryl turned his head in the other direction in panic, to see if he was by or inside the other car, but there was nothing. A loud bang next to him startled the hunter and made him turn his head again. He could see a bloody hand and face that was pressed against the window right next to him, where a walker was snapping and fighting and trying to get inside.

Daryl's heart started beating faster again, because he was so overwhelmed by everything. There were walkers, gunshots, Judith was screaming her lungs out in here, he was in pain and wearing Connor's rosary and Connor wasn't _there_. So many things were happening at once, and although he didn't have a clue about anything he knew one thing for sure: He needed to help. He needed to get out of here.

The hunter leaned forward with an awkward hiss and tried to calm a screaming and crying Judith down, while reaching for the glove compartment.

"Sh, everything's..gonna be alright..assskicker" he grunted while grabbing his aching chest with one hand, and searching the compartment for a knife with the other hand.

He did only find a small army knife and figured that the others were using all the weapons outside. Daryl grabbed the knife with an awkward grunt and then placed the hand on baby Judith's shoulder, to rock her gently and calm her down as good as possible. The baby still wouldn't stop screaming and he was sure that she was going to start again anyway as soon as he left, so he let go of her and made his way back to the backseat. He needed a moment to gain breath and fight the dizziness and pain in his chest. The walker was still by the window and kept banging and banging, making Judith's crying worse and worse.

Daryl gritted his teeth and stared at the undead, and not only the noise made the hunter angry. The pain made him furious, and he just needed to get out of here, needed to shut everyone up, needed to figure out what the fuck was going on. After taking a couple of shaking breaths and grabbing the knife as tightly as he could he finally approached the door and grabbed the door handle. He stared the walker right in the eye for a moment and noticed that the undead was staring at crying Judith, obviously attracted by her incredibly loud cries. Daryl pressed his lips together and shoved the door open as hard and fast as he could, making the undead stumble and fall backwards.

When the hunter tried to exit the car his legs suddenly gave in and he fell outside with a grunt, landing right on top of the walker. He had not meant to do that but figured that it was as good as anything else, so before the undead got a chance to attack and bite him he already buried his knife in his eye socket, piercing the brain and killing the walker dead after one final struggle.

The hunter let out an awkward gasp and tried to get up, feeling another incredibly sharp pain through his chest while doing so. It felt like the bullet was still in there and ripping his insides apart. Daryl groaned and felt how his eyes filled with tears again, but not because he felt like crying. It was more like a natural and unwanted reaction to the pain, and for a second he had to roll on his back right next to the walker to gather strength and calm down.

_Great._

He had meant to go out here to fight those undead bastards. And now he couldn't move a freaking inch.  
He could see the others now and how they were fighting the undead horde back to back.   
No one had noticed him yet, not Andrea, not Michonne, not Beth or Hershel or Carl.

Daryl widened his eyes in surprise when he noticed how another walker tried to climb inside the car through the door he had left open after falling outside. The walker was already crawling inside, trying to get the baby, which sent a sudden burst of energy through Daryl's limbs.

"No!" he shouted and managed to get on his knees.

He grabbed the undead by his legs and managed to make them both fall over, but this time he was the one being pinned on the ground.

Daryl let out a pained and surprised gasp when his back and head connected with the ground and it pressed all the air out of his lungs. The undead was now lying right on top of him and the hunter found himself trapped again, but this time he couldn't scream, couldn't fight, because he couldn't breathe and the pain in his chest seemed to suffocate him. The undead moved slowly and clumsily and raised his head with a loud snarl while Daryl struggled to get his knife back. Panic rushed over him once more when he still couldn't breathe and couldn't find the knife. The undead was now only inches away from his face and throat, and then it moved even closer and closer to...

_Sniff._

The walker was lying right on top of him, staring at him and grabbing and pinning him, but he did nothing but sniff and snarl. Daryl stared back at the undead with wide eyes and watched him sniff at his throat, face, clothes. He did anything but bite him. The hunter was even more shocked whenthe walker suddenly let go of him and got back on his feet like a clumsy drunk, only to head for fighting Beth now.

Daryl watched him leave in absolute shock, heart bounding, chest heaving.  
He couldn't believe it. He seriously didn't understand _anything_ anymore.

He sat up with an awkward hiss and watched how the undead walker got shot in the head by Beth, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.  
She seemed to be thinking about the same question he was asking himself now.

_Why the fuck had this undead bitch decided to leave him be?_


	66. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

He had heard the constant rattling of machine guns for several minutes, and then there was nothing. Connor and Carol were running down the corridors in the mean time, guns raised, knives ready and eyes open. Although it wasn't the first time that Connor was fighting people with guns he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was both terrified and at the same time excited, because it had been too long since he'd last fought a large group of enemies instead of dead people. They reached the door to the boiler room about two minutes after they had heard that second loud explosion outside. They weren't really sure but it had sounded like a grenade, maybe even something larger like a bomb.

They were worried about Glenn, Maggie and Rick. The couple was still outside, with only a couple of guns, limited ammo and riot suits protecting them from what sounded like a larger group. Rick was inside the other cell block to let the other group of walkers loose. Connor didn't really like the fact that their leader didn't get to wear a riot suit over there because they didn't have any more of them, but Rick had insisted that he, Maggie and Glenn should be the ones wearing them and not him.

When Connor and Carol reached the door they exchanged a couple of worried glances. They would not speak because they didn't want to give away their location now with their enemy being inside, but both their worries and fears were still obvious. Connor placed a hand on Carol's shoulder and nodded, to let her know that it was time for her to make her way over to the nerve center of the prison. The woman placed her hand on his and then nodded, and after looking at him for a while she turned around and started running again.

Connor took a deep breath and swallowed hard, knowing that each member of his group could die in a blink of an eye soon. He had never worked a "job" with so many people before, and he didn't like it at all. Connor positioned himself, know that it would only be a matter of seconds until the fight started. The footsteps got louder and louder while he grabbed one of their flashbangs. Every member of the group had a couple of those to distract people, and he knew that he needed to make each one count.

The blonde MacManus leaned against the wall for a moment and stared up at the ceiling. He reached for his chest and cursed when he remembered that he didn't have his rosary with him. The absence of it made him think about Daryl again, and prayed to god that his friend was safe right now. That no one had discovered him yet, that no one had shot him or the rest of the group, and that hopefully, they were on their way to Woodbury now.

Which made the whole fight even more necessary. They needed to take all the evil ones out. They needed to make sure that Daryl and the others would be safe at it sounded like the enemy was just around the corner he threw the grenade at the corridor right in front of him, where it exploded with a loud bang.   
  
The corridors filled with smoke within seconds, and then there were terrified screams and yelling that echoed through the whole building. Carol had obviously heard the bang as her sign to start the next part of Connor's plan, because right then the alarm system came back to life, beeping and ringing in his ears with flashes of red light. He could hear Rick's voice echo through the entire prison and the recording over the PA system seemed to work as well.

" _Leave this prison now. We do not want to fight you. This is your last chance to end this. You 've been mislead. No one needs to get hurt_ " it said over and over again, which made the Irishman snort.

It had been the others' idea, not his, and he doubted that it would do anything about the situation.  
As if people were just going to leave after blowing up parts of their prison and slaughtering everything with bullets.

Connor grabbed the door handle to the boiler room, to let all the walkers they had trapped out of there.  
He threw another bunch of flashbangs and then grabbed his gun to be ready in case someone still got too close to him.

He kept shoving and yelling at the walkers in the meantime to get them to move towards the enemy. The noise was ringing in his ears because there was so much happening at once. He heard the terrified screams of men and women, meaning that Andrea had been right about the Woodbury fighters. Then there was the growling and groaning of the walkers that kept stumbling out of the room, ignoring him and staggering right after the Woodburians, who seemed to leave the cell blog in panic. When he heard gunshots outside he knew that it was time to leave as well, so Connor started running and headed for the corridor that led to the bridge.

There were only a couple of walkers that crossed his path on his way there, but in contrast to his enemies he did not fear them any longer, because he knew that they wouldn't attack him and because he knew that they were actually working with them right now. Once again Connor couldn't run for too long because of his screwed leg from the car accident last year, but he eventually reached the bridge and was greeted by a gunshot right away. The Irishman cursed and ducked down to hide behind one of the metal tables they had brought from the cafeteria.

He fell to his knees and started crawling along the floor to get to his rifle, the grenades and ammo they had stored there.  
He was busy reloading when Rick suddenly fell right next to him and kicked the other door shut.

"You made it!" the Irishman cheered and then patted Rick's shoulder.

It didn't take the two men too long to get ready for the fight.  
Once their rifles were ready to shoot and the grenades were ready to throw they got back on their feet and left their hideout to start shooting.

"Remember! Not te fuckin women and kids! Just the men that shoot back at us!" Connor yelled and then grabbed the grenade.

The Irishman took a look around the prison yard because he wanted to find the cars Woodbury had used to get here, but just for a second he had to stop and watch what was going on. The yard was filled with people and walkers, and there were bullets flying everywhere. He could hear the terrified screams of women and men that were trying to get away from the undead, and it was obvious that they were far from trained for this sort of situation. Carol had successfully closed the gate and now there were people piling up on it, desperate to get out, while others were being eaten alive on the pavement.

Most of the shooters didn't even know who they were supposed to shoot at. Some of them kept shooting the walkers, others were fully concentrated on him, Rick, Glenn and Maggie. Which made it even more obvious who needed to be taken out and who not. When Connor noticed how some of the men started running for the one car that was parked right in the yard he noticed the massive machine gun and grenade launcher on there. He widened his eyes and knew that it was his turn to act.

"Get down!" he yelled as loud as he could and then threw the grenade right at the car.

A second later there was a violent loud bang and a fountain of fire as the earth started shaking because of the explosion. All the yelling and shooting stopped abruptly because everyone down at the yard was thrown to the ground because of the blast wave. Pieces of ash and metal started raining down at them, then Rick turned his head and looked at Connor in utter shock.

"What the hell was this about?! We want to scare them away, not slaughter them!" he spat and shoved the other man who was quite surprised himself. He had not intended such a big explosion, and even he had to admit that his plan was working _too_ well. This wasn't war. It was a bloody _massacre._ The screaming and shooting downstairs resumed, and he could hear the constant clacking of bullets hitting the metal tables they used to hide. Connor swallowed hard and then grabbed his rifle with his healthy hand.

"They had a fuckin grenade launcher and a .50 calibre machine gun on that fuckin thing! If they'd managed t'get over there then we would be swiss fuckin cheese by now!" he defended his actions and then glared at Rick.

"Now take that African dude out. 3 o'clock. Behind te table. Keeps shooting at Maggie and Glenn. Do it! I take te fuckin Latino" he growled and took a deep breath before getting back up to start shooting.

He was now facing the damage he had done. Some people were still lying on the ground, desperate to crawl away from the car wreck and walkers. There was fire coming from the car. Many people had terrible cuts because of the explosions. Then there were the walkers who wouldn't stop coming out of both prison blocks. Connor froze when he saw a woman lying there on the ground.  
  
Two walkers were on top of her and just about to attack. He could also see the guy he wanted to shoot. The guy kept shooting at Maggie and Glenn and was in a prefect position for Connor to shoot him in the head, but the screams of the woman got louder and more desperate, and that to a point where the Irishman could no longer take it.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he growled and then took aim at the walkers heads instead. He took another deep breath and then held it so he could pull the trigger. He hit the first walker right in the head which made the undead twitch and then fall back. A second later he hit the head of the other one, which landed right on top of the shrieking woman.

She turned her head with wide eyes and then stared at him in shock. Connor gave her a slight nod with an unreadable expression on his face and startled when a bullet missed him by just a couple of inches. He ducked down and cursed, only to turn his head in the direction where the shot had come from. He could see the guy from earlier again, the one he had wanted to shoot.

"Motherfucker!" he exclaimed and took aim with one swift motion. The man tried to jump back behind the office table, but Connor was faster. He pulled the trigger two times and hit the man in his chest and then head. Rick hit the African American at the same time, and after shooting another two men who tried to shoot them the Irishman finally had enough. He ducked down behind the table, threw his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed his Beretta instead.

"You stay up here. Take every single fuck out that tries t'get me" he said to Rick, who crouched down as well and looked at him in utter surprise.

"What?"

Connor nodded and then adjusted the small knife which he carried around his ankle.

"Aye. 'M going down there."

" Are you crazy? Just look at all this chaos down there, I won't let you do.."

"Exactly, look at this fuckin mess down there, Rick. There's women and fuckin teenagers that get slaughtered because of my fuckin plan! Andrea was right" he growled and headed for the door.

"Connor!" he heard Rick yell behind him, but chose to ignore him.

When the Irishman made his way back through the dark corridors he wasn't exactly surprised that they were empty again. All the walkers had followed the noise and people outside. There was just the stench of blood, smoke and death all around him, and there weren't just corpses of shot walkers lying around in here, he could even see two men from Woodbury.

Connor knew that he was not allowed to worry or really think right now because it could get him killed, but he could already feel the nagging of his conscience, and he was really glad that he didn't wear his rosary right now, that Murphy was dead and Daryl not here with him. It was the absence of true remorse that scared him, because although he knew that everything that was happening out there was so so wrong and against his beliefs, but right now he actually felt...nothing.

He wanted to get out there and set it right simply because of their no women no kids rule. But he was actually surprised that he didn't really care about the others anymore. It was simple. He had killed too many people already. He had bashed too many skulls in, he had shot too many heads, and after watching a couple of hundred people die he had gotten used to killing men.  
  
He remembered how terrified and disgusted he had felt when he had strangled that man to death back at the hut. This felt nothing like that. Not at all. He didn't really know what the men he had shot just a minute ago had done in their lives, but truth was that he didn't even care. He had wanted them dead no matter what. Death made everything simpler for them, and this was war.

He ran outside the cell block and hid behind a table right away, to get a better look at the situation and see what was going on. Rick, Glenn and Maggie were still shooting at the screaming and fighting crowd, but they were all careful not to hit anyone unless it was necessary. Connor noticed another screaming man on the ground and how he kept fighting another walker, and he knew that this was his chance to do something about it.

This was part two of his plan now.

Part one had been quite easy.  
Scare the shit out of them.  
Create chaos.  
Use the chaos as a distraction to take out the suspicious ones.

As he ran over to the man he took another look at the at least five men they had killed. One of them being one of the guards that had taken him and Daryl hostage back at Woodbury. The one who had punched the shit out of his friend. He remembered another couple of faces but wasn't really sure if they were supposed to shoot them as well, but they would know in a couple of seconds.

Because this was part two, and this meant making people understand that they didn't want to kill anyone innocent. They needed to draw the twisted ones out, the ones who weren't here because they were told to be here, no he was after the ones that came here because they wanted to _kill_. The ones who didn't care about innocent and guilty. And he was the bait. Again.

He knew that there was only one way to stop Woodbury's fear again, and that was to force them to see that they could be working together if only they wanted. They weren't terrorists. Terrorists killed people because they loved it and because they were sickos. And the governor had done a pretty fine job convincing these people that they were the bad ones, that they were the terrorists. He needed to make them understand that they were the good ones.

So Connor ran over to the screaming man and launched himself at the walker, to shove him away and stab his head.  
The other man was still screaming and yelling and then tried to attack Connor, but the Irishman grabbed his wrist midair and stared him right in the eye.

"We don't wanna kill ye, alright?! You've been mislead, brother" he growled and then used the arm he held by its wrist to pull the man up.

"Now get yer shit t'gether and help me kill these undead fucks instead of us killing each other" he went on and headed for the next walker, being well aware of the fact that the man could point his gun at his back and shoot him any second. But it looked like the man was too shocked and surprised by his deed to do any such thing. Connor heard another two screaming and fighting women and then ran over to them to help them and kill the next couple of walkers, as bullets kept flying all around him.

He knew that it was ridiculously dangerous down here but he wanted everything to end. He was getting sick and tired of all the death and screams around him, he just wanted to sleep and rest, he just wanted to get back to his friend and make sure he was save and sound. This was so different compared to all the jobs he had done before, all the murders he had committed. This was actually his first real war, and he hated it.

Although it was a bit sick and twisted he had to admit that his kind of murder had been fun for him. He had enjoyed being a serial killer, he had enjoyed killing so many mobsters back in the old days. But this was nothing like that now. He wasn't fighting mobsters, this wasn't easy and done after a couple of minutes. This was dirty, messy, bloody, fucked up and ugly. It needed to stop. He finally understood what his uncle and father had told him about the war. How you just knew that a war was necessary and glorious, but that didn't mean that you were going to like it. That by the end of the day after after hearing to many gunshots you just wanted to go home. He felt just like that right now.

Connor went on like this, running from one group to the next, killing walkers and hiding from bullets while Rick, Glenn and Maggie kept an eye on everything from their higher position. They soon started shooting the walkers instead of the pavement, and they only had to take out another three men who tried to shoot Connor despite his obvious tries to help people instead of killing them.

* * *

He could hear Andrea's and Hershel's shouting behind him, but Daryl did not care. He kept walking with his hand clutched to his aching chest. He needed to get away from them, back to the prison. This plan was ridiculous, everything was ridiculous, and there was no way he was going to Woodbury while the other half of their group was being slaughtered here. He needed to help, he needed to make sure that everyone was alright. Connor. Carol. Rick. Maggie. Glenn. They needed to get out of there.

The hunter had to stop for a second and a violent and painful cough escaped his mouth. There were some droplets of blood on his clenched fist but he chose to ignore that, just like he was ignoring the incredible pain in his chest from the fresh gunshot wound. He could see the prison now, saw all the smoke and fire. There were still some gunshots but the heavy explosions had stopped by now. The shooting meant that there was still someone alive back there, so he needed to get there, needed to help. He grabbed his crossbow and knife tighter as he kept walking.

It had been ridiculously hard for him to get his weapon back and run away from the group, because they had insisted that he needed to rest, that they needed to stick to the plan Rick and Connor had suggested.

Rick and Connor.

He knew that that shit was bound to go wrong. Daryl finally reached the field in front of the prison and gasped in surprise when he noticed all the walkers around the area. Right now he was glad that they were there, because they kept Andrea and the rest of the group away from him.

He still didn't know why the fuck these undead freaks wouldn't attack him all of a sudden, but part of him believed that maybe it was Connor's rosary's fault. He wasn't exactly a believer and thought that everything was bullshit, but even he couldn't fight that nagging feeling, that nagging idea that maybe there really was a god that was protecting him right now. Just because of this stupid thing around his neck. He grabbed the wooden cross with his knife still in his hands and grunted because of another sudden wave of pain in his chest.

"I swear t'fuckin god if yah dead then I'll fuckin kill yah" the hunter grunted as he staggered up the hill and towards the prison, careful to keep an eye out in case people from Woodbury decided to shoot at him. Again. _There was no way he was getting shot now_ , he thought as he kept walking and started to worry when he noticed the fact that the gate to the prison yard was closed. He could see a car wreck there, and people who were shooting and fighting walkers, but he couldn't see the other members of his group yet.

He was well aware that this was like deja-vu. Because this was the second time he was staggering over here right after a Woodbury attack. Only that he was alone this time, not with Connor, not with... He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. He remembered everything now. Why he had been shot. What had happened. His brother was dead. The Governor had killed him. This town had killed him. And now this godforsaken town was here, ready to take his best friend and family next. He needed to stop this.

"Daryl!" he heard Andrea's voice again and turned around, only to see that the entire group had followed him and was behind him with their two cars by now. He gritted his teeth even more because he was so angry that they really were so stupid. They could get attacked in contrast to him. And that not just because of all the walkers all around him. No, they were big and easy targets in their cars like that, and he didn't want to be responsible for their deaths just because they were so stupid and foolish.

"Just go!" he yelled back and grunted because the volume made his chest ache even more.

He turned his head again to look back at the prison, only to widen his eyes in surprise. He was now close enough to the complex to see the rest of the group. He could see Carol, Rick, Glenn and Maggie up in the bridges that connected the prison blocks as they kept shooting and shooting. But that wasn't the worst part. Seeing that neither Carol nor Rick wore any riot suits. No, what made it worse was the fact that he could see Connor down _with_ the people from Woodbury, running around with only a knife in his hand. He was running right at their enemies and stabbed walkers and walkers only.

The guy was a complete nutter.

Daryl walked faster, his blood boiling with nothing but anger. He couldn't believe that his whole group was so incredibly fucking stupid.  
He was gone for five mintues, passed out and injured and everything went to shit around him.

"Connor!" he yelled as loud as he could and had to stop walking because the world started spinning again. He was incredibly exhausted and got annoyed by the constant pounding in his chest, how it made it hard for him to breathe, concentrate and walk. The cars were close to him by now but he walked only faster then, because he wanted to get to the fence in time so he could help his friend.

"Leprechaun!" he yelled once more and coughed hard, and when he finally reached the fence that separated the field from the prison yard he grabbed the iron links as hard as he could and used them to keep himself upright. He was hiding right behind the guard tower and let his gaze wander to keep an eye on the enemy. He could see a LOT of bodies on the ground.  
  
Walkers. Shot men with their weapons still in his hand. He saw how Rick and the others kept shooting, but for some reason they wouldn't shoot at all the strangers that were running around their kept shooting at the remaining undead and for some reason most of the Woodburians shot them with them. And Connor was with them down here, running around like he belonged with them.

The Irishman finally noticed him when he turned around to check the yard for more walkers. He widened his eyes in pure shock when he saw Daryl standing there, the two cars from his group a bit behind him, heading right for the prison rather than driving away from it like he had told them to.

"What te fuck are ye doing here?!" Connor yelled back and killed another walker with a stab to his head, only to make his way over to the prison fence without really checking for enemies around him. He ran right at him and seemed furious by now.

"What te fuck? I told ye people t'get away from here! Are ye mental, there's walkers everywhere ye retard!" he yelled at his friend and pointed at the staggering undead all around them that were following the cars and headed for the fence as well.

"What the hell?!" Daryl growled back and pointed at the mess inside the fences, where both the Woodburians and the rest of the group were still fighting walkers.

"'s all part of me plan. Now get inside a fuckin car and get yer ass outta here!" Connor demanded and turned around to make sure that no threat was near.

"No! Yah gonna open the gate and let us back in, just look at this mess, man!" Daryl yelled back and needed a second to catch breath.  
He leaned against the fence with a groan and squeezed his eyes shut because the pain caught him off guard.

Connor looked up when he heard the creaking of a car door. He could see how Michonne and Andrea got out of their car and ran for them, obviously just as shocked by the entire situation. They needed to kill some walkers on their way over to them, so Connor used the time to keep talking to his friend.

"Jesus, just look at ye, man. You got shot a day ago. Now get yer ass outta here, 's too fuckin dangerous."

"They don't attack me no more" Daryl growled and raised his head to look at Connor, who stared back at him with a confused frown on his face.

"What?!"

The hunter nodded with a grunt.

"Yeah. Don't know what the.."

He startled when he heard a shot and Connor was suddenly thrown right against the fence. Daryl widened his eyes in shock and instinctively ducked down, although he didn't want to. It took his brain a second to process everything, and when he finally understood that his friend had been shot and he already wanted to start yelling Connor interrupted him with a loud and painfilled gasp.

"Jesus, that hurt, motherfucker!" he exclaimed and then felt his back in shock. He could feel where the suit had been pierced, but there was no blood, and when he turned around to see who had shot at him Daryl could see that the bullet was stuck in the vest rather than his back. Connor didn't get the chance to shoot the man who had shot him because right then Rick killed him with a single and precise headshot.

Connor gave him a slight and surprised nod, only to turn around and look at Daryl again.  
He wanted to say something but right then Andrea started yelling.

"Stop this, just stop it!" she yelled as the last walkers dropped to the ground and the remaining members of the Woodbury group were now pointing their guns at Connor, them, Rick and the others on the bridges.

"Andrea?" the woman Connor had saved from walkers asked and looked at her in surprise.

The blonde woman nodded but had to kill a walker, as all the undead outside the prison wouldn't stop coming at them.

"This is madness, just stop shooting each other!" she demanded and Michonne kept rattling on the gate, until she noticed that it needed to be opened manually by using one of the control panels inside the guard tower. She disappeared inside for a moment, and Andrea used the time to keep talking to the people from Woodbury, who were obviously terrified and shaken to the core because of the fight.

"They killed Martinez! Shumpert! Stella!" one of the men roared as he kept pointing his gun at Rick.

The leader of the prison group as well as Glenn and Maggie wouldn't put their weapons down either, and it was like one could almost taste the tension in the air.

"I know, but those were the ones who dragged you here in the first place. Just look at you! Look at us all, has it really come this far?  
Are we really going to kill each other without even asking ourselves why?"

"They trapped us in here like rats! Locked us up with walkers and threw grenades at us!" a woman yelled then and Connor finally lost it as well.

He turned his back on Daryl and stared at the people from Woodbury, and although countless rifles were being pointed at his chest he wouldn't raise his weapon.

"And what te fuck did you do? You came in here with fuckin grenade launchers and machine guns. We've warned ye multiple times ta leave us alone and that we don't wanna fight ye. I only threw the fucking thing at te car ta keep yer sicko buddies from blowing us up. We got fuckin kids with us, man!" he yelled back and pointed at the silver car that was being protected by Carl and Hershel just behind the gate. Both members of the group were hiding behind the car with raised guns and in fear of bullets. They could hear the loud screams of Judith rip through the silence, now that the shooting had stopped.

"And I saved yer fuckin life from walkers. And yours! And yours, and yers as well, Mr fuckin big machine gun!" the Irishman went on and pointed at several people, who looked at bit confused but still wouldn't put their guns down.

He knew that he wasn't genuine about it, but it wasn't like they knew. It had been his plan, he had created this entire sick scenario on purpose just to use it in this very moment, and it seemed to work. Everyone startled and turned their heads in surprise when the gate finally opened. A few people started running right away, most of them being women.

"Margret!" a man shouted after a delicate blonde woman and then ran after her, but most of the other Woodburians stayed right where they were as Andrea entered the yard with Michonne. Daryl entered the prison yard as well, crossbow drawn as he walked around the fence. He staggered closer to Connor, who grabbed his shoulder to keep him steady and then placed himself in front of his friend while pressing his crossbow down. He didn't want the hunter in the line of fire, not after everything that had happened.

They would have a lot to talk about as soon as all this was over, and right now Connor was just angry at Daryl. Because he was the one that had screwed his plan up like that, because he was the one who had brought them into this situation right now. Andrea kept walking until she was standing right between the two groups.

"Isn't that Michonne?" they heard a man mutter as the woman came to a halt right next to her friend, katana ready to use should the whole thing escalate again.

"This is a big mistake. And this isn't anyone's fault but Phillip's" the blonde woman said as she kept looking at the people from Woodbury. Rick and Carol had made their way down by now, and while Carol ran right at Connor and Daryl to hug the hunter their leader positioned himself right next to Andrea. Just like all the others he kept his gun within reach, but right now it didn't really look like anyone was going to shoot soon. Especially not with Glenn and Maggie still being up there, with guns pointed right at any potential threat.

"They killed the Governor, and we came to finish his work" one of the remaining strong men said as he stepped forward, obviously being comfortable with taking over the leader role now that Martinez and all of the Governor's henchmen were dead.

"Do you even know what his work was, Richard?" Andrea countered and stepped closer.

"Phillip was a psychopath. He tried to kill me. He wanted to torture and kill Michonne. He kidnapped those two people up there. He beat them and assaulted them" she went on and pointed at Maggie and Glenn.

"Prove it!"

"Liar! You're with them!"

The members of Woodbury yelled and cocked their weapons again, which made Michonne raise her katana and Connor, Daryl and Rick raised their weapons as well.

"He killed my brother!" Daryl suddenly joined in, but Woodbury wouldn't have any of it.

"He was a terrorist! Just like you!"

"There's no need for this, we can end this like civilized people! We tried, in fact!" Rick countered, but Andrea placed a hand on his chest and stepped closer to the people of Woodbury again. She pressed Richard, the new leader,'s gun down.

"I was there when you lost Lucy" she reminded him of something only they knew, and then she looked at the others.

"I was there when Martinez and the others almost shot you just because you wanted to leave. And I was there when Phillip wouldn't speak to you.  
Trust me, I'm not lying. And I have proof. I saw his torture chamber. Just like Milton. We can all end this today. No more bloodshed. No more violence.  
We lost too much already" she went on and turned around to look at the prison group.

"Both our groups."

"It's true" said another man from Woodbury then, which made everyone look at him.

"I saw it. I was part of it" he went on and then stared down, obviously feeling ashamed of whatever he had done. Most people turned around to look at him. Only a couple of men kept their weapons pointed at the prison group, while the others listened to what the man had to say.

"We went on scouting trips. we went after that chopper pilot's squad. He told you that they died, that the pilot died. But it wasn't like that. We shot 'em up. Stole their weapons and supplies. 's what we always did. How'd you think we got all this stuff. I just went along with it cos I didn't wanna eat a bullet myself" the man went on and then put his weapon down.

"First time we got here we crashed that gate over there and flooded the thing with walkers. Shot them up like fish in a tank."

"This is sick" said one of the women and dropped her weapon in sheer disgust.

More and more weapons dropped to the ground as the group of Woodbury came to the realisation what they had been part of.  
Only a couple of men refused to put their weapons down, and Connor, who had been watching one in particular, knew that it didn't take long until one of them was going to snap.

The Irishman had noticed how the man's face had turned into stone and then lit up with anger as the other started talking about their deeds, and it was obvious that he had been part of that, that he didn't want it to be discovered. Connor watched his hands and fingers and how they twitched, while his eyes were fixed on Andrea. The blonde woman started talking again about how important it was to finally get along and over this, and when the man moved Connor was already on it.

It didn't happen in slow motion but he could still see each movement at once. He saw how the man raised his gun and pointed it at Andrea, saw how some of the Woodburians widened their eyes and ducked down, saw how Andrea reacted, but he was faster. Within seconds he raised his Beretta just as fast, aimed at the man and pulled the trigger, just in time to keep him from shooting anyone. Half the people of Woodbury started screaming again and ducked down and started running, but the Irishman put his gun down again and just walked away with an angry growl, knowing that they had finally eliminated every threat.

"This shit ends now" he growled and kept walking, ignoring how everyone watched him leave.


	67. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** episode 16 " _Welcome To The Tombs_ "

The war was supposed to be over, but it didn't really feel like it. The remaining members of the prison had decided to leave their old home to head back to Woodbury with the others. There were many reasons for that. The prison was overrun with walkers again because of the noise they had made with all the guns and grenades. There was some damage to the walls and fences, and it would take way too much time to put everything up again. Then there was the fact that the prison was a dirty, dangerous place. One that was too big, one that you could never really control. They had wounded people like Daryl and Connor, and it wasn't exactly a safe place for Judith either.

Then there was the more obvious reason,that it was necessary. They still didn't want another survivor camp so close by, no matter if they had stopped shooting each other for now. Rick, Andrea and Connor saw a chance in the fact that most of the strong fighters including the Governor and his henchmen were dead. Woodbury had not been able to assign a new leader yet, and they wanted to make sure that there wasn't going to be a Governor.2.  
  
And they could only achieve that by staying there and keeping an eye on things until they knew what they were going to do next. The group wasn't really sure about their decision, but they still wanted to leave with the residents of Woodbury. They knew that they would be far from safe in this town, but everyone had to kind of agree that actual beds, walls, electricity and running water were far better than living in prison cells.

Woodbury didn't exactly trust the prison group either, but they weren't soldiers, they weren't military, they weren't psychos for the most part which was definitely a good thing. They were civilians after all, and since they all knew Andrea and trusted her more or less it actually helped a lot. Rick still told everyone of his own group to keep their weapons ready, to keep an eye out on everyone just to be safe. It was kind of surprising though. Now that their former enemies had seen baby Judith and Carl, heard all the gruesome details of the Governor's deeds and as soon as they had seen all the injuries, death and misery they were actually rather kind to them. At least the majority of people like the women.

Rick insisted that they should keep each their belongings to themselves, just so that no other fight over food or anything like that would commence. Since they had destroyed most of the cars from the other group they got another bunch from the parking lot, and once again no one would stop side eyeing each other the entire time while getting ready for the journey over to Woodbury.

Connor sighed.

This was going to be a _nightmare._

He headed for the part of the prison yard where they kept their things and cars. It made him angry to see that Daryl was still on his feet, moving things and bags and ignoring his fresh wound completely. He walked over to his friend and then grabbed the heavy bag which Daryl was trying to carry inside one of the trunks.

"Whoa whoa, hold te fuck up. Yer not gonna carry that thing" he warned his friend and then threw the bag inside.

Daryl stood there and pressed his hand to his chest for a moment.  
He was very pale and it was obvious that he was still in much pain, but Daryl wouldn't be Daryl if he wouldn't deny it.

"'m fine" the hunter growled and turned around to head for the next bag.

Now that he was somewhat back on track more and more bits and pieces of what had happened the day he had been shoot were coming back. He was in pain which made him bitchy by default, but he was also pretty upset if he was honest. Now that all the drama was gone, now that the Governor was dead and Woodbury wasn't such a threat anymore his mind was forced to process everything that had happened to him. He was forced to process his brother's death although he didn't want to. He thought that all these months of hearing Connor whine about it had prepared him for a life like this, but truth was that he was far from that.

He had never been able to truly picture what it felt like to be the only one left of your family. He had lost his mom a very long time ago and didn't really feel anything about it anymore. He had lost his father to walkers last year and if he was honest he had been relieved when that happened.  
  
He had lost his uncle half a day later and put him down, but all of that had never really mattered, because Merle had always been out there. Somewhere. He had been alone pretty much all his life and he had been fine with it, but just because he had known that his big brother was still out there. Whether that bastard had been in Atlanta or Woodbury or Sedalia. He had always been there.

And now? Merle wasn't there anymore. He would never be able to look forward to another reunion ever again. He would never ever be able to get annoyed by his stupid brother again. All he had left now was his motorcycle. Just that. He wanted to be angry but somehow couldn't. Because there was no one to be angry at anymore.   
  
Not the Governor, because he had slaughtered that son of a bitch. Not the walkers, because they had not killed Merle. Not Rick or the others, because Merle had made that decision all on his own. All that was left now was the pain in his chest and apart from that the emptiness in his heart and stomach. He hated that feeling, so he forced himself to fill it with something. And that something was the only thing he could right now, the only thing he had always been good at:

_Be angry at Connor. Blame him._

Because that bastard had put that idea in Merle's head. Because he had not looked after him when they had been alone. Because this asshole had been jealous of his brother, because he had said that he wanted him dead. He knew it wasn't fair. He also knew that Connor was anything but guilty. He knew about all the things his friend had done for him after he got shot. The driving like a madman, the running and fighting walkers,, the bringing him back here and taking care of him and making sure he was alright.

But there was no one else to blame, so he blamed his friend and turned his back on him, walked away from him with an annoyed grunt. The hunter headed for his motorcycle- _Merle_ 's motorcycle- and tried to put his stuff on there, so he could get away from this godforsaken place. Just like any other time when he had been hurt and pissed Connor wouldn't just leave him alone though. The Irishman followed him and tried to take the second bag from him.

"Come on, man. You just got shot. You should rest" the blonde suggested and tried to put a hand on his friend's back to guide him to one of the cars, but Daryl tried to shrug him off and kept going.

"'m said I'm fine."

"Just let me fucking help yer fer once, you asshole!" Connor suddenly snapped, which made his friend look at him.

"You need t'fucking rest. Those stitches ain't made of steel and it doesn't take much t'split them. We just put you back together, alright?  
I listened to you last time you asked me to take a rest, so don't be such a fucking princess about it and listen t'me fer once."

Daryl just snorted and looked at his friend through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah of course. You listened to me and stayed. And look what fucking happened."

Connor froze right then and there and looked at the hunter in surprise. Daryl regretted his choice of words, but they were kind of true.  
He sighed and turned around again.

"Just wanna be on my own" he said and started walking and this time a bit faster, but Connor kept following him even now.

"It wasn't yer fault, alright? And it wasn't my fault either. It was no one's fault but that sick fuck's. _He_ killed your brother and shot you, not me. It's over now, and you shouldn't strain yerself too much. Just..just get yer ass in one of the cars over there and rest. I'm gonna leave you alone then. I can put yer stuff together, take yer bike and fol.."

"You ain't touching that bike. You don't even look at it" Daryl interrupted him as he stopped walking and looked his friend right in the eye.

"I said 'm fine. Think you got it last time when we were in a situation like that and you wouldn't leave me the fuck alone when I asked yah to.  
Don't you ever get anything in that stupid thick Irish head of yours?"

Connor looked back at him with pain in his eyes, while he was still trying to control his anger because Daryl could be so fucking _stubborn_ sometimes. _He just wanted to help him and look after him, why would that asshole never get that?_ It had been so easy with Murphy compared to all that shit now. Murphy had always welcomed him to look after him, and he still was way too used to that role to lay it down now. He was the protector. He was the big brother. He was the one who took care of shit and knew shit after all. And Daryl needed to fucking get that.

"I just don't want ye ta shut down again. Just look at you, man. You came so fuckin far. Yer a different man compared to when I met you. Just..stop this shit. Don't make it worse. I know what it feels t'lose yer brother just like that, but shutting down and falling in some fuckin hole won't help. I just wanna keep you from all this."

Daryl pressed his lips together, and that not just because of the anger but also because of the pain in his chest that came from both the bullet wound and losing Merle like that.

"It ain't nothing like you losing your brother" he countered and Connor let out a gentle sigh while staring down to the ground.

"Brother's brother, Daryl."

The hunter shook his head and pointed at his friend with an angry growl.

"No it ain't. _You_ had your chance to save yours. You had him all your pathetic life and you were there when it happened.  
You got t'say goodbye to your brother.I _never_ got to do that!"

By the time he was finished he was yelling the last sentence at his friend, because the frustration and anger over his brother's death fully took over his body. Connor just looked at him and let him talk, so Daryl kept going.

"I wasn't there when it happened, and I wasn't there in time to safe him. And the last things I ever said to him were how you were so much better than him, and how I wanted the old him back instead of taking the brother that was standing right in fucking front of me. He died thinking he got replaced by someone like _you_!" he snapped and shoved the Irishman hard.

The sudden movement sent a sharp and hot pain through his chest and made him wince and cough. The hunter lost his balance and would no longer use his hands to shove his friend away, he grabbed his leather jacket instead and tried to keep himself upright. Connor caught him with an awkward grunt and tried to keep him steady. Daryl tried to move away at first, but the pain was really bad by now, to a point where he didn't want to move an inch.

"What'd I tell you, you fuckin moron" Connor muttered and wrapped an arm around his friend's waist to help him get to their Hyundai.

Daryl wanted to complain, insult his friend and tell him that he was alright, but the pain was actually so bad that he couldn't speak at all. The wound didn't feel like last time he had been shoot. Last time there had been an arrow stuck in his side, and there had been two superficial wounds on both his temples, but this was a wound right in his chest, close to his lungs and whatever guts he had stuck in there. It felt like a piece of extremely sharp and hot string was slicing his insides, and although he was kind of used to pain he had to admit that it really fucking _hurt_.

Only an occasional grunt escaped his mouth but other than that there was nothing, until Connor managed to open the backdoor of the car and put him in the backseat. Although Daryl hated to admit it: sitting was actually nice. Yeah, that asshole was kind of right. Resting felt good.

Connor crouched down next to the car and adjusted the hunter's position until he had made sure that his friend was comfortable enough. Daryl just stared straight ahead, through the windshield and at the walkers and crosses down the hill. He was exhausted, he was tired, but right now he was just sad. And he was too exhausted to hide it. He finally gave up struggling and fighting and let Connor do whatever the fuck he wanted.

"You seen your bro right after he died?" he asked after a while and Connor looked up after ruffling his blonde hair.

"What?"

"First night after your brother died..d'you see him?" Daryl asked but still wouldn't look at his friend. He just stared blankly at the field.

Connor looked at his friend for a while and studied the expression on his face.

"Didn't sleep fer three days after that. Or more. I don't know anymore. The days, maybe even months after that day are a bit of a blur t'be honest" he said and then looked in the same direction as Daryl. "I pretended he was there after a while. Kept talking t'thin air and all that. But I didn't really see him until I meet you people. Got worse when I met you. Til I saw him almost every day" he went on and looked at his friend then.

"Why'd you ask?"

Daryl wouldn't say anything to that for a very long while as he just kept staring and had to think about what he had dreamt just before waking up.

"Do you think he was real? Like, really real?"

Connor let out a gentle snort.

"What, like a ghost or something?" he asked and chuckled, which made Daryl angry.

The older of the two friends sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know. Could be. Could've been a really good memory, too."

He stared in the general direction of the crosses where he had buried Murphy's knife and rosary. Even now he felt a dull pain in his heart, even now half of his body felt like there was something missing, like a phantom limb. Although he missed his brother like hell and thought about him and even talked to him every day he wasn't in such agony anymore.

"No matter what it was, it was nice t'have him with me fer a bit longer, but I'm also relieved that it's over now."

Daryl nodded and replayed these last moments over and over again, when he had last seen Merle. On the field. In the infirmary. By the car. Maybe this had been a memory. Whatever it had been, it had saved his life. It had kept him going when he had been about to just give up and stop fighting. And it had woken him up when that bloody walker had been about to eat him. Daryl frowned and automatically reached for the rosary he was still wearing. Connor noticed it and smiled because of it. The hunter let out a gentle exhausted sigh and then took the rosary to get rid of it.

"Better get your freaky thing back. All the 'walkers ain't attacking me' bullshit don't suit me" he growled and handed the rosary over.

Connor took it and moved his thumb across the wooden surface, and the remark made him frown and tense.  
He put the rosary around his neck and figured that this would be the time to tell Daryl what had happened after that shot and surgery.

"Well actually...I think it's not the rosary's fault, that is" he muttered and Daryl turned his head to look at him.

"What?"

Connor took a deep breath and nodded.

"Aye. I think it's my blood."

Daryl frowned and just stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Connor moved his arm, the one he had used for the transfusion. He pulled the sleeve up to show the ugly bruise from his own attempt to take the blood after all the others had left. He then pointed at Daryl's arm, and after freeing his friend from his sleeves the hunter could see the bandaid on his own arm.

"Hershel cleaned te wound and got rid of all the fragments, but those little fuckers put loads of tiny holes in your blood vessels. You'd lost too much blood by the time he was done with the surgery, and when it got worse and worse we decided ta do it. No one knew yer blood type, and I happened ta be type o negative."

Daryl kept looking at him, shock rushing over him. He was suddenly well aware of all the blood that was flowing and pumping in his body.  
Connor rubbed his forehead awkwardly, as he still remembered the whole thing all too clearly.

"We gave you some and you seemed ta be doing good, but then shit went wrong and you had a seizure. Hershel couldn't hear a heartbeat or feel you breathe, and everyone thought you was dead. So I threw them out and kept pumping my blood in yer arm. Because that's the exact same fucking thing that happened t'me when you people thought I was dead after I got bit. The fake death, the wide eyes and being like stone shit, that was exactly like that."

Daryl finally managed to look down on his arm and grabbed it. He could still feel his blood flowing and suddenly felt extremely awkward. There was stuff inside him that wasn't his. He had _someone else's_ blood inside of him. He had _Connor_ 's blood inside of him. It made him shiver and he had to pull a face. He hated that knowledge because it embarrassed the crap out of him. It was way too intimate, way too strange and new for him. No one had ever cared about him so much that they were actually willing to give something of themselves and put it in..He shook his head and got angry. Goddamn fucking leprechaun and what that fucker did to him and made him think about.

"Could've killed me and turned me, yah moron" he growled and massaged his arm.

Connor smirked.

"And here you are."

They kept looking at each other and Connor grinned more and more, knowing that his friend was super embarrassed right now.  
Daryl looked away with another gentle growl and moved his sleeve back down.

"Looks like we're blood brothers now" Connor went on and chuckled.

"Shut up" Daryl muttered, because he still hated the mention of the word "brother".

He took a closer look at the walkers and sighed.

"So yah basically sayin I'm some freak like you now? Immune or some crap like that?"

Connor shrugged and got back up to clean his jeans from all the dirt.

"Dunno. Why do ye think we wanna head fer Woodbury next? Fuckers over there know shit."

"Yeah. It's not like yah moron just blew them up with grenades and threw them at walkers" Daryl muttered but Connor didn't seem to have heard him, because he was talking to Glenn for a moment.

Daryl shook his head and eyed all the people from Woodbury, mistrust growing inside him with every face that he saw. He recognized some of them. Some of those blood thirsty fuckers that had been standing there cheering while this Governor wanted to make him and Merle... He froze right there and shook his head with an angry growl. _No. There was no Merle. Merle Dixon had died. Even better: Merle Dixon didn't exist. There was just him. He was just Daryl._  
  
But still. He didn't trust anyone from Woodbury, he didn't want to go back there, no matter how much of an good idea and comfortable place it really was. He liked it dirty. He liked the woods around him. He liked having to hunt for his own foot and sleeping close to a campfire or inside a tent. This whole new beginning in some stupid town was a stupid idea, and he just knew that there was going to be some serious trouble.

The hunter let out another hiss when he felt another sudden stinging in his chest and looked down on himself to check the wound. It annoyed the crap out of him that it wouldn't stop aching. He rubbed his chest a bit and then leaned his head back to close his eyes. He knew a good method to fight the pain, because he had been doing it a lot back then.  
  
He just needed to close his eyes, and pretend it wasn't there. He just needed to picture being somewhere else. Maybe his favourite day-dream: hunting somewhere up in the hills. With no undead pricks staggering around. No. Just him and his crossbow and knives, maybe hunting a deer and sleeping under the dark and open sky. Smelling nothing but the trees and earth and rain instead of all the shit and gore you had to smell these days.

There was nothing but him and nature, nothing but... He snapped his eyes open with a violent start when he heard the whispering of people close to him. He turned his head in shock to check if Connor had heard it as well, but his friend and the others were still busy talking and arranging things. The hunter scratched his nose awkwardly and turned his head to see where the noise had come from but didn't really see anyone.  
  
He tried to shrug it off. Maybe he had fallen asleep again. Maybe it had been a dream. When he looked back at the fence right in front of him he startled once more because he could see the walkers who were just standing there. Just _standing_. Staring right at him. They didn't shake the fences, and when they moved their mouths there were no groans coming out, there were actual _whispers_.

He turned his head once more to see if Connor really didn't react to that weird stuff, but no one seemed to notice it at all. And he didn't exactly notice it either. Unless he was staring right at them and concentrated on it. It took him a while, and if he was honest then he had to admit that it scared the crap out of him. But he still believed to hear actual words coming out of their mouths, and after listening up for a while he thought that he could understand them. It was a sheer chaos of words and mumbling, but there they were, three very distinct phrases.

_Help us.  
 _Join us.__  
So hungry.  
Join us.  
 _Join us._  



	68. Woodbury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **setting:** between seasons 3 and 4

Connor ended up riding Daryl's motorcycle, no matter how much his friend really hated it. The hunter was in no condition to drive around like that, so he was forced to sit in the backseat of the Hyundai. The groups were driving back to Woodbury with the help of several cars, and even now there was no such thing as trust going on between them. People were being watched in rear view mirrors the entire time, as if they were just waiting for someone to pull a gun or a grenade launcher or god knows what kind of weapons they still had with them.  
  
They were quite lucky if they were honest. Now that the prison group had shot so many men back at the prison the majority of the Woodbury group were women, which were more reasonable by default. It had taken what felt like ages to get them to take the prison group with them, and once again they thanked god that they had people like Andrea and Hershel with them, who were quite good at the whole reasoning part.

Connor had tried to be the voice of reason as well, but no one would really believe him anymore because he had been the one to shoot most of their former enemies, and because he had been the one who had thrown the grenade at the car. It looked like the people of Woodbury liked him least because of that, but truth was that he didn't even really care anymore.  
  
All that mattered to him right now was Daryl's wellbeing. He didn't really like the idea of bringing his friend back to the very man who had practically forced him to break his own hand, the man who had strapped him to a bed and who had taken his blood without his permission, but he would do anything to get Daryl through this whole getting shot and having his blood in his veins thing.

He honestly couldn't wait to learn more about the immunity thing, and he really hoped that this doctor, or whatever the hell that guy was, could tell them more about it. If walkers really didn't attack Daryl as well now that he had his blood inside him, then maybe there really was some sort of cure, then maybe they could really end all this with his blood.

He certainly wanted everything to end. This war, all the deaths, the end of the world. They deserved it after all.

Whenn they finally reached Woodbury they were suprised by the sheer seize of the walls once again. Even though the Governor had been some seriously fucked up psycho they had to acknowledge his work on this town. It didn't take them too long to get inside, although they had some explaining to do. There were two people keeping watch on top of the walls, and for some weird reason Rick and the others already knew them.  
  
There was some yelling, there was some discussion, there was some blaming and insulting going on, but after spending way too much time on it the prison group was finally allowed to enter. As they were guided over to the area where they kept their cars Connor couldn't help but stare at the surrounding houses. Last time he had been inside here it had been dark, and he had been trapped inside some of the less pretty houses.

But now there was broad daylight, there were some kids and older people outside, and the town was so clean and tidy that it actually looked ridiculous. They were used to filthy houses, prisons and storage units by now. They couldn't even really remember the last time they had come across clean houses. Proper electricity. Proper running water.

And here they were.

Woodbury.

Once they reached the parking lot everyone got outside their vehicles, and even now there was nothing but tension going on. Rick, Andrea and the others were discussing something regarding their new alliance. Connor was interested in it. Of course he was. He was the man with the plans, he was the one who was used to bossing people around. But he was too tired, and he didn't even really want to be part of anything right now.  
  
Yes, he had guided this group through this war and it had been his plan for the most part that had gotten them together, but now he needed a break from all that. He was good at killing, he was good at planning murders, he was good at guiding small groups, but he was also far too chaotic to be able to guide such a large group like that. A whole town. No thank you, there would be no discussion. Rick would have to handle that shit first. And if he didn't like something then he would get noisy enough about it soon enough.

Daryl was Connor's number one priority, so he got off his friend's motorbike and then walked over to the car, where the hunter was currently trying to get out. He rushed to his help but once again Daryl wouldn't let him, and the hunter was especially grumpy right now because Connor had used the motorbike despite their previous discussion about it.

The Irishman noticed that his friend was in really bad shape again, because the drive over here had done him no good. They had passed the scene of their previous car crash and after that the old abandoned farm where they had lost Merle, and one could tell that Daryl was tired, upset and even a bit traumatized by everything. It really looked like the hunter needed to sleep for a couple of hours, maybe even days, and if Connor was honest then he had to admit he could use a nap, too. He hadn't really slept in days because of everything that had happened ever since they had come here to Woodbury for the first time.

Connor patted his friend's back and refrained from asking him how he was. He still wanted to help Daryl get to his bike, though. Of course the hunter needed to check everything now, needed to make sure that his well preserved last memory of his brother was kept in good shape. Connor looked up in the mean time, to see where Andrea was, maybe even that weirdo Doctor they really needed to see. He noticed that their friend was standing there right next to Rick, Hershel and a few survivors from Woodbury, and after telling Daryl that he would be right back and hearing a grumpy and tired "Whatever" he made his way over to the rest of the group.

There seemed to be another discussion going on. This time it was about where the prison group was supposed to stay, and although Connor was interested in that as well he still wanted to make sure that Daryl was taken care of first. After listening to some of the arguments for a moment he finally tapped Andrea on the shoulder to get her attention.

"You seen yer Miller guy anywhere?" he asked and Andrea had a look around, only to shake her head.

"No. I haven't seen Milton yet. Maybe he's in his office?"

Connor automatically tensed at the mention of this place, because it reminded him of the dreadful experiences he'd had there just a couple of days ago. He rubbed his forehead gently and then nodded at Daryl.

"I just think he's the guy t'go to to have someone take a look at Daryl. He's not doing so well" he muttered and considered that it would be best not to tell everyone about his assumption that Daryl was probably infected with the same strange thing he carried inside of him ever since he had been bitten the first time. Andrea moved her hair out of her eyes and let out a gentle sigh.

"Why don't you just let Hershel help for now? Dr. Stevens and the others are a bit busy right now. A lot of people have been hurt and need help as well. Why don't you just take him inside that house over there. Top floor. It's empty now. It used to belong to Martinez and Shumpert."

Connor turned his head to take a look at the house she was pointing at. The houses were really nice, far nicer than anything he had ever lived in his entire life, and he still couldn't really believe that they were supposed to really stay here. He supposed that it was a good idea to move in and let everything calm down for a bit, but he still wanted someone to take a look at his friend before that.  
  
He watched Daryl again and how his friend awkwardly tried to fix something on his motorbike, but the hunter kept scratching and feeling his chest and it was obvious that the pain from the bullet wound was getting worse and worse with every more hour he was awake. They didn't have any pain pills or medication yet, so he couldn't wait to give something to his friend now. He nodded and looked at Andrea again.

"Alright. 'm gonna help him get up there. But still, where's that Milton guy's office again? It was dark last time I got here, and I wasn't exactly in good shape when I left. He really should take a..."

They didn't even get to speak on, because right then three men emerged from an back alley.  
Two men were carrying a severely beat up other man between them, and before Connor got to ask what was going on Andrea already reacted.

"Milton!" she exclaimed and started running to help her friend.

There was even more chaos, because as soon as people saw how bloody Milton was they automatically assumed that it was their fault. Guns were being drawn and pointed at each other, and since Milton needed a lot more time to answer their questions because of his swollen face things were already about to escalate again. But then their were answers to their questions, and after Milton revealed that the Governor had been the one to beat him up after he had tried to help Andrea escape there was nothing but angry grumbling going on.

It was obvious that Woodbury didn't like the fact that the prison group was right about everything. Right about that their former leader had been a psychopath, right about the fact that there had been torture and murder going on behind their backs. Maybe it was a good thing that Woodbury seemed to be ashamed, but Connor still thought very little of them. He was pretty sure that at least one third knew about everything but had decided to keep quiet about it instead of protesting against this mindless war. And once again he was reminded of the things their monsignor had said back in Boston, the one thing that got even more obvious now that the apocalypse had happened.

_But there is one thing that we should fear the most, and that is the indifference of good men._

He offered his help to Milton and the others, but it didn't really look like anyone needed or wanted him anywhere now anyway, so he walked back to Daryl to get him away from the crazy mob for now. His friend was still fiddling about with his motorbike and didn't seem to be too interested in what was happening around him.

Connor approached his friend with a gentle headshake, while still keeping an eye on Andrea and the others. Just looking at Milton sent a shiver down his spine. Last time he had seen this man he had been in terrible pain, and just seeing his face seemed to bring back all the ugly memories at once. He kind of knew now that the guy wasn't really that bad, judging by the fact that he had never really hurt him, that he had taken care of his wounds and how he had helped Andrea and managed to get himself beat up like that.  
  
He also knew that he was supposed to feel sorry for that unlucky bastard, but even now he couldn't really feel sorry. Even now he thought that the guy kind of deserved it just for the fact that he had trapped him like that back then. He tried to think about something else, because he didn't want these old memories about Woodbury to dominate him now. This was supposed to be a fresh start for him. For everyone. He needed to make this work for the group, himself and Daryl. He took a deep breath and nudged his friend's back gently.

"Found us an apartment. I told Andrea that we wanna see this Milton guy later. So he can tell us what te fuck's wrong with you with all te blood.  
You should probably rest now."

Daryl snorted and finally looked up from his bike to eye the other Woodbury survivors.

"What, with all those crazies right on our doorstep? Nah. Ain't no way 'm gettin anywhere close to no bed in here for a while" he growled and pointed at his motorbike.

"Besides, yah dumbass fucked my bike up. Gotta fix it."

Connor looked at the vehicle with a frown. He didn't know too much about motorbikes and cars and all that shit, considering that he had never really owned anything like that himself, but he did know enough about it to see that there was nothing wrong with Daryl's motorcycle. Even when he had driven it over here he hadn't noticed anything weird at all.

"Yeah, sure."

Daryl just turned around again and pretended that he was working on his bike, although it was very obvious now that he didn't need to do it. Connor put his healthy hand in his jeans pocket and watched his friend for a while, while listening to everything that was being talked about all around him. He could still hear how many mistrusted them and kept whispering and mumbling all sorts of things about them when they thought no one of the prison group was listening. He heard about how this Dr. Stevens person was full on busy taking care of all the cuts, scratches and bullet wounds from the shootings and war earlier, and how Milton had been beaten to a bloody pulp. No one would stop talking about the Governor either.

He was seriously getting sick of all this. No matter how much he appreciated all the walls and clean houses around them: the prison had been better in one regard. Silence. Privacy. Some sort of safety. Not that much distrust and hate. He knew that he wasn't going to get Daryl away from here like that, to ask him to rest, so he did the only other thing he knew that would work on his friend. Not treat him like a sissy and ask him to work instead. Because this was the one thing the hunter always wanted to do. Work. Help. Be useful.

"Anyway, 'm gonna move some of our stuff inside. Andrea said we should be fine in there. No one's in there, and we need ta pick eventually.  
Better take our chances, don't want any of these fucks ta take the best houses before us."

Daryl started working on a screw and nodded without really looking at him.

"Yeah, you do that" he muttered and Connor had to grid his teeth to keep his cool.

He understood that his friend was injured, in pain and currently grieving his brother's death, but he was getting sick of this already. He knew this kind of behaviour all too well by now. Especially from back at the farm. This was the card Daryl always played when he didn't want to be weak. Play the grumpy, quiet and indifferent asshole. One second he was extremely clingy and bitched at him about every little thing _he_ did wrong because he obviously didn't want to lose him and see him in pain, but as soon as _he_ tried to do the same with Daryl, his friend had to be stubborn like that. Connor gritted his teeth even more and looked at their stuff.

"Got a broken hand and fucked up shoulder in case you didn't notice" he muttered and used the only bait he had left, although he hated to admit that he had a weakness right now as well.

Daryl turned around and eyed him head to toe, and Connor tried to look extra miserable on purpose. It wasn't really hard to do something like that, because he really was in pain himself and because his shoulder really was nasty anyway with all the angry flesh and split stitches from the day before. Daryl pressed his lips together and seemed to be contemplating the silent plea for a bit, but then stood up and grabbed some bags they didn't even know if it really belonged to them.

"Fine" he growled and headed for the door, which made the Irishman smirk a moment later.

Connor grabbed another couple of things and followed his friend inside, grin growing bigger because he had won for once.

* * *

The room wasn't really that big and didn't really have much in it, but it sure as hell looked like a five star hotel room compared to what Connor was used to from the prison and his life back in Boston and Ireland. He took a look around the room and noticed all the little pointless things that were still inside, mostly clothes from the two men that had used to live here. The men they had killed. Connor didn't really feel anything about that except for the slight annoyance about the fact that they had to get rid of all that stuff now.

Daryl threw the bag on the bed and had a look around as well.

"So what, we gotta share rooms again?" he said and his voice still lacked the strength, and right now he even seemed too tired to really attempt to fire the usual strings of insults and mockings at Connor.

The Irishman shrugged and had a look outside the window.  
He could see the rest of their group downstairs, and it looked like some of them were heading for the house right across the street.

"Looks like it. Town's not exactly that big. And I ain't really interested in having anyone sleep alone here any time soon. Not with all these shady fucks out there. Two groups who used ta shoot each other living under the same roof all of a sudden? Gotta count on some attempted violence and murder shit. Better safe than sorry."

Daryl shrugged and searched his bag for his gun.

"Then why not move in one house altogether? Or even better, why move here in the first place?" he muttered and Connor watched him with another angry and worried frown.

"Remember what te fuckin prison looked like when we left? Overrun with walkers that was. And damaged."

"Didn't look any different when we got there the first time before y'all people fucked everything up while I was gone."

Connor let out an angry snort.

"Aye, and that was when he had more people with us and when half our people didn't get fuckin slaughtered, tortured and shredded. Looked in the mirror lately?"

Daryl just shrugged and didn't say anything to that.  
Once he was done checking his bag he looked up and then pointed at the small couch opposite the old double bed.

"Yah gonna get your ass on that."

Connor looked at the couch and let out a gentle snort. The couch didn't exactly look that comfortable and it was way too small for him.

"The fuck 'm gonna do. You get _your_ ass on there."

"Well I got shot yesterday" Daryl answered and played the sick card all of a sudden, which made Connor snort in protest.

"Fuck you, and I got bit and broke my own hand!"

Daryl raised an eyebrow.

" Yeah, so? Yah gonna be a sissy about it? Man up. Yah gonna take the couch. End of discussion. Princess."

Connor tried to hit his friend's shoulder, but Daryl dodged the attack just in time.

"Who's the sissy that wants ta sleep in a fucking double bed on their own just cos they got fuckin hurt by one tiny bullet? Princess yourself, princess" the Irishman growled but frowned when he noticed how his friend walked away.

"Hey, where you goin?"

Daryl opened the other door which seemed to lead to a tiny bathroom.

"I'm gonna take a piss, and after that 'm gonna go outside'n help Rick and the others" came the answer and the door swung closed before Connor got to say something.

For a moment the Irishman just stood there and stared at the door, ready to complain and tell Daryl to keep his ass in here. He turned his head for a moment when he heard some noise in the hallway, and just when he was about to finally say something he suddenly noticed the doorknob, and even more importantly: the keys there.

Connor looked back at the bathroom door where Daryl was still busy peeing or whatever he did in there, and then a mischievous grin broke through.

_Oh he had a better idea._

The blonde MacManus made sure that he had everything he needed and then walked over to the door, took the key and walked outside. Daryl chose to exit the bathroom then but it was already too late. Connor grinned at him and slammed the door to their apartment shut, just in time to keep his friend from getting out. He used the key to lock the door and then the hammering and knocking started, which made Connor grin even more.

"What the hell? Open the door yah moron!" Daryl yelled from inside and his friend chuckled.

"Don't worry, brother. 'M gonna help the others fer you. Why don't you test te couch in the mean time. Looked pretty comfy."

"Connor, open the fuckin door!"

The older of the two friends was chuckling even more. He knew that he had done what he wanted: keep Daryl inside and force him to sleep and stay safe, but this very moment was too precious for him to let it go by like that.

"'m warning yah!" Daryl yelled and the door shook even more violently.

Connor grinned and patted the door as if he was patting his friend's shoulder through it.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. Listen t'Ma. You should lay low and rest fer a bit. Maybe draw some flowers on the wall" he went on as kind of payback for when Daryl had locked him in a cell just two days ago.

"Son of a bitch! 'm gonna kill yah if you don't let me outta here right fuckin now!" the hunter on the other side roared, to which his friend only replied with laughter.

"Sweet dreams, princess" Connor muttered but the raging on the other side of the door would not stop.

It worried Connor now because he knew that abrupt moving and excitement like that wasn't really good for a man who had almost died less than 24 hours ago. He let out a tired sigh and stopped laughing then.

"'m serious, alright? You gotta fuckin rest, Daryl. 'm gonna go outside, help the others, and get someone up here so they can take a proper look at yer stitches and te blood thing."

"Screw you" came the answer with one final violent shake of the door, like Daryl had kicked it and given up.

Connor smirked and patted the door once more.

"Alright. Don't fuck yerself up even more you whiny baby. Gotta go now" he said and then finally left to get outside, to help the others and figure out how everything was supposed to work here in Woodbury.


	69. Answers

It was getting dark outside when he was finally allowed to enter the room where they kept Milton. Dr Stevens had taken care of his bruises and broken bones for now, but since the man was no soldier nor a tough guy he wasn't doing too good. Andrea had stayed with him for a while and even now Connor didn't really get why she would get along with a guy like that, but he didn't want to ask questions, and the truth was that he wasn't really interested in anyone else's relationships anyway. As soon as he entered the room Milton's swollen eyes widened as good as they could, and the man obviously recognized Connor from that godforsaken night.

"It's you!" he was greeted without hesitation, and Andrea just looked at Connor for a moment.

"This is Connor. Connor, this is Milton" she introduced them to each other, since both men had never really met each other like normal people did.

"He has a few questions for you about a friend of ours. You okay with that?" she went on and looked at the injured man, who was pressing some sort of ice on his right eye.

Milton nodded eagerly and then sat up on his bed.

"Of course " he said and then looked at her, but not without eyeing Connor for a good minute.

There was both fascination and fear in his eyes, because he was obviously very interested in Connor's immunity, but also respected his strength after what the Irishman had done to his nose that day. Connor just leaned against the door frame and folded his arms as good as he could with his broken hand. He stared back at the man, obvious anger but also the same kind of interest showing in his eyes.

"Would you please leave us alone for a bit?" Milton asked Andrea, who looked at both him and Connor for a moment.

"You sure about this?"

Both men nodded, so she got up with a sigh.

"Okay. I'm with Mich and the others if you need me" she muttered and then left the room with a headshake, obviously not liking the idea that these two men were alone again.

As soon as she had closed the door behind Connor there was silence going on between them for a while, and Milton kept staring at the Irishman.  
He didn't look at him like he was interested in his appearance or a conversation with him, no, once again it looked like he was examining him like a test subject.

"I already talked to your friend just yesterday. I'm really glad you made it."

Connor snorted and moved away from the door frame so he could get closer to Milton.

"Ye mean after you trapped me in yer fucking lab and stuck needles in me like I'm a fuckin lab monkey?"

Milton shifted and winced since he had obviously been beaten up quite hard.

"It was necessary."

"Aye, well maybe te whole beating and breaking yer nose thing was necessary as well" Connor went on and came closer.

He wouldn't stop looking Milton right in the eye, which the other man certainly didn't like at all.  
He looked rather intimidated and then stared at his nervous moving hands.

"I..talked to your friend about your...condition" he said and finally looked at Connor again.

"Did he tell you?"

The blonde Irishman frowned a little, since no such talk had happened between him and Daryl yet.

"No?"

Milton shifted once again and seemed to get excited.

"There is so much to tell you. Your results are...well you are _extraordinary_. I..pardon my choice of words and excitement, it's just that I've never come even close to such great test results. I've only heard about it back when the outbreak started. And now we've found you. Your blood reacted with the test samples and did the most remarkable..."

"Shut it" Connor interrupted the man then and automatically grabbed his arm, the one where the first bite had happened. Even now there was something like phantom pain going on in there, and it never seemed to fade when someone was talking about it. Milton shut up and swallowed, obviously fearing another punch or anything like that. Connor finally stopped looking at him and let go of his arm. It was silent for a moment, then the Irishman sighed and shook his head.

"Some weird shit is happening" he began and then looked at Milton once more.

"And I need yer help."

Milton tensed and grabbed and squeezed his hands.

"S..sure."

Connor looked out of the window then. He could see how the sun was setting, and there were some lights out there in the others houses.  
Even now it still creeped him out. He wasn't used to electricity and lit up rooms anymore.

"We got a vet with us, but he doesn't really know about that shit. Then I got stuck in yer freak show fer a couple of minutes, and after everything I heard Andrea say about ye I thought you'd be the most fitting person ta ask this."

Milton kept nodding but still seemed very nervous and even a bit anxious.

"Okay?"

"That friend you mentioned" Connor muttered and started walking around the room for a bit. He didn't really want to speak it out because he knew how easy it was to freak other people out with the whole immunity thing. The group hadn't exactly welcomed him after he and Daryl had returned this spring, and he didn't even want to know what kind of riot or even murder could commence should the people of Woodbury get to know that two people inside their town were infected with something new, something weird, and something that could possibly be dangerous.

"He got shot by yer Governor yesterday. He nearly died."

Milton widened his eyes a bit.

"Did he? I'm sorry."

Connor shrugged.

"Whatever, ye don't have ta be. Cos he made it. But he only made it because I gave him my blood after he lost too much of his own."

Milton froze and looked at Connor in both surprise and shock.

"You did what?"

The Irishman nodded.

"Aye, I did. And it worked. He's doing relatively fine. He's up in an apartment right now. Resting fer a bit. Te blood ain't the worst part, the bullet wound's not doing him much good but.."

The Irishman sighed and rubbed his forehead. Part of him got aware of the fact that he really needed to cut it again, because the whole messy and annoying bits of his pointy fringe were actually getting too long for him to keep them up and out of his eyes.

"Well, we noticed that the blood changed shit fer him as well. And now I just wanna know if you know anything about that, and if you can tell me if it's going to last, get worse or subside after a while like it did with me. I need ye ta take a look at him, maybe even at his blood, see what's happening, and ye gotta make sure he's alright and that he's going ta make it after that nasty fuckin shot. I don't know. You know yer town best, you know yer capabilities. And if yer really not such a fucking douchebag like Andrea says then I think ye know that you kinda owe me and pretty much our entire group."

Milton adjusted his glasses with a gentle sigh.

"Just like I told your friend: I don't know that much about the virus or whatever it is.." he muttered and tensed when he saw how Connor seemed to get angry because of that answer.

"But I can try my best. I'm going to ask Dr Stevens to take a couple of blood samples and take care of your friend's injuries..."

The Irishman shook his head.

"No, I want you ta do this shit. Nobody needs ta know about this" he muttered and Milton nodded.

"I know, then simply don't tell her about the transfusion. I'm not a doctor, what was your name again? Connor? I'm not a doctor, Connor. I am a scientist. You should get some medical treatment from doctor Stevens. She should be available now. I can take a look at your samples and do some experiments after that. "

Connor clenched his healthy hand to a tight fist because he still didn't like the answer. He had wanted Milton to come with him right away and tell him what the hell was up with Daryl. He also knew that the man was right and that he needed help and rest himself for now, but that didn't mean he liked that.

"Alright" he growled and turned around to head for the door, but just when he was about to leave he suddenly remembered the one question that had been bugging him ever since he had discovered that he was immune. For a moment Connor just stood there, hand still rested on the door handle. A sudden wave of sadness rushed over him just like every time he thought about it. But now he was here. With Milton. In this room. After all these months he was finally with a man who could give him some peace. Probably.

"I got another question, actually" he said and turned around to look at Milton. The man was looking back at him, curiosity showing in his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked after a while, because Connor wouldn't tell him right away.

The Irishman was struggling a bit, because part of him didn't even want to hear an answer anymore.  
But then he decided that maybe he really needed to end this once and for all. He stepped closer to the bed again.

"I..." he took a deep breath and looked away.

"I had a brother once. A twin brother."

He closed his eyes and tried to remember Murphy for a moment, but even now there were only a couple of images dominating his memory. Murphy getting bit, and Murphy dying in his arms. _Oh it had been so many months now_. He had burned and buried practically everything by now, but the pain would never really go away, and he would never stop missing his twin like hell.

"He got bit in the shoulder. It was a nasty bite. Too much blood" he muttered, voice soft and sad.

"He would've died no matter what, but still. Ever since I found out about this blood thing I can't help but wonder... could he've been immune as well?"

Milton eyed Connor a little closer and seemed to pick up on the fact that it was really important to the Irishman.

"Identical twins?"

The blonde shook his head.

"Fraternal."

Milton nodded and tried to get to his notepad, which was lying on the table close to the bed.  
Connor rushed to help him get to it, because he really wanted to know the answer.

"Did he turn after he died? Your brother, I mean?"

Connor swallowed hard and even now something in his brain just made him freeze at the mention of his brother's death. It felt like something in his head just closed itself up like a massive wall, to protect him from the immense pain that was still in there, somewhere. He nodded after a minute of trying to stay calm.

"Aye. I shot him, in the head."

"I'm sorry" Milton said and Connor just nodded. The scientist then started to turn pages in his notepad for a while.

"Well, since you were fraternal twins there's no clear answer to that. You were just like any other siblings, only that you were born on the same day, right?"

Connor nodded once more.

"Aye. Just a couple of minutes apart. Well, 's what our Ma always said anyway. Dunno who came out first, though."

"That doesn't matter. You don't have identical DNA signatures, which means that there's no guarantee that you had the same blood type and immune system quirks. And it's your bloodtype and the physical makeup of your blood that makes you special."

"Did have the same blood type" Connor answered stubbornly and tried to get a better look at Milton's scribblings, but the scientist wouldn't let him.

"What about the rest of your family? Any other siblings? Parents? Did they get bit as well when the outbreak started?"

Connor shook his head and looked at his own bite wound again.

"Nah. Just me 'n Murph. Our Da died before all that shit. God rest his soul" he answered and crossed himself.

"Our Ma lived back in Ireland. Pretty sure she's dead as well. Don't know her blood type. Whatever it was, woman was tough, but old and sure as hell not strong enough ta fight all.."

He took a deep breath because another wave of sadness crushed down on him when he had to think about his mother.  
How she might have ended up fighting and getting eaten back inside their old house or old church. _Jesus fucking Christ was that shit unfair._

"Well, they're all dead now. 'm all that's left from that family. Just wanted t'know if..well if the timing had been different and the bite hadn't been fatal, then maybe he could've..y'know?"

Milton stopped turning pages then and looked Connor in the eye.

"There is a _possibility_ that your brother could've been immune as well."

The Irishman froze and looked at the man for a while. He didn't like the answer at all.

"But...well he turned..."

"We don't know for sure, and I really want to doubt it, but there's also a possibility that you could turn as well. Should you ever die."

Connor stared at Milton then.

"What?"

The man nodded.

"Your immune system neutralized the infection and everything that is causing the dead to walk. But we don't know what happens when your body dies. When your life energy fades and your immune system fails. It could stay neutralized, the infection could destroy your antibodies and t-killer cells and feed off them or your dying body could kill the neutralized infection as well, I don't know yet. At the moment we just know that your blood can stop an infection and the turning process, but we don't know for how long and how in general."

The Irishman was actually speechless for a while. He didn't know what to say. He had always assumed that he was no longer a threat, that maybe he had been healed or some crap like that. This had been the exact reason why he had been so frivolous the entire time. He had thought that the immunity made him invincible. Invincible for the undead, but far far from immortal. He had been looking forward to dying one day without having to come back as a rotting corpse and waiting for someone to bash his brains in.

"Did your friend tell you about Augusta?" Milton asked and snapped Connor out of it.

"What? No. What about that?"

"There's a temporary medical research center there.. The CDC blew up last year, but we were in contact with the team back in Augusta for a little while longer after that. But then their radio died. They might still be there. They were working on something before the winter. I told your friend that we should take you there sooner or later. Both of you. I'm sure they can give you more answers there. About yourself, your friend. Your brother..."

Connor nodded, suddenly lost in thoughts. He had not known anything about Augusta until now, but maybe Milton really had a point.

"All the answers I can give you right now is that I need to do more tests. Your brother could've been immune but it doesn't have to be like that. I don't know" the scientist mumbled, and it was now obvious that he was very tired and in pain from the beating he had received earlier.

"And I don't know what's causing the undead to refrain from attacking you and your friend either."

He sighed and rubbed his head.

"Now if you'll excuse me. I need to rest. Ask doctor Stevens. She can tell you more about Augusta. She can help you and I think she's got the time now."

The Irishman nodded and scratched his stubble covered chin.

"Aye" he said and turned around to leave, his mind racing with sudden new ideas, theories and even more questions than before.

* * *

When he finally managed to bring Dr Steven to their new apartment he wasn't really surprised to find his friend in bed. Daryl was lying there on the double bed, still wearing all his clothes but covered with a blanket. He didn't really blame his friend because it was a rather cool evening, and when Connor walked around the bed he noticed that his friend was actually really sleeping. Daryl still looked miserable and sickly, but he was glad that his friend gave his body some time to rest for now.

The Irishman looked up and nodded at the woman, to let her know that it was alright to enter and have a look at Daryl. Connor turned on the lamp on the bedside table and had to smile because it actually worked. He then wanted to place a gentle hand on Daryl's shoulder to wake his friend up, but the hunter was faster than him once more. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed his wrist with his one hand, while using the other to draw his knife from under the pillow. Connor was already used to this procedure by now so he moved his other arm up just in time to block the knife-to-the-throat attack.

"I got yer a doctor, dumbass" he muttered and Daryl let go of him. The hunter growled and grabbed his pillow stubbornly.

"Don't need no doctor" he growled and Connor nudged his shoulder.

"Come on ye grumpy asshole, that's not how ye treat a lady" he answered and kept shoving at Daryl.

The hunter turned around in surprise to look at the woman behind him. He had not expected the doctor to be a woman, and he automatically grabbed his blanket to pull it up higher. He had forgotten that he was still wearing his shirt, and he didn't want any stranger to see his scars no matter what. He managed to sit up after a moment and Connor retreated with a pleased smile so Dr Stevens could get to his friend.

"I'm Dr Stevens. And I'm not having any sick patients here" she introduced herself and then tried to get a look at Daryl's chest.

"You got shot?"

Daryl looked up to narrow his eyes at Connor for a moment. His friend knew exactly how much he hated it when people treated him like he needed help when he didn't even want it. The Irishman obviously seemed to enjoy his victory though, because he started grinning at him and nodded.

"Aye, Ma'am. He did. In the chest. One of our group stitched it up, but he's no doctor and our dear friend Daryl ain't doing so good.."

"Bullshit."

"...he just doesn't like ta admit it."

Daryl suddenly hissed when Dr Stevens opened his layers of shirts and got rid of the bandage on his chest.

"Hey, watch out, lady" he growled and shifted. Dr Stevens ignored him and kept going.

"Well your friend didn't exactly do a very good job, but it's good enough to keep it closed. I'm going to clean it. I don't really want to open up the stitches when your wound is still healing. But it is important for you to stay in bed and rest. The wound needs to close itself and heal properly before we can put you to work again."

Daryl kept glaring at Connor because he felt rather awkward right now. He still hated to be touched by anyone but his close friends, and the fact that a woman was touching him now made it even worse. It wasn't like he had never been close to a woman before, and it wasn't like no woman had ever touched him, but he didn't like it when strangers did it. So he judged his friend as good as he could, although he knew that Connor just wanted him to get better. The blonde stood there by the bed with folded arms and looked back at him, grin growing wider and wider as if he was trying to tell him:

_Told you so._

Daryl narrowed his eyes even more.

_Screw you._

Another hiss escaped his mouth when Dr Steven's finger moved across a particularly sensitive spot of the wound.

"Man up" Connor said then, which made Daryl even more furious.

"Oh shut up, leprechaun."

The Irishman chuckled but then looked at Dr Stevens.

"Don't ferget about the blood samples. Milton needs those. He also wants ta check mine."

Dr Stevens suddenly moved a hand in the air to hush the Irishman.

"One at a time, sunny."

This nickname made Daryl smirk then.

"Yeah, sunny. Shut your hole."

Connor threw his hands in the air in defeat and retreated to the back of the room, so he could sit down on the couch and wait until it was his turn. Daryl had to get rid of his shirts and jacket after a while and Dr Stevens told him to lay on his belly for a bit so she could take a look at the entry wound. Even now Connor couldn't really hide his shock and pain whenever he saw his friend's bare back, because despite the unfinished tattoo one could still see the scars all too clearly.  
  
Just like any other doctor the woman tried to engage his friend in a casual conversation about the scars and asked if those were from fighting walkers, but that topic was a conversation killer and Daryl just replied with one grumpy "No". Dr Stevens fell quiet then and stayed like that for the rest of the treatment, until she was done with the bullet wound and took the blood samples like Milton and Connor had told her to.

Daryl's previous better mood had subsided by now and it was obvious that he was very tired and in pain. He got some antibiotics and other medicine which he didn't like at all. But he gave in and let her prick him and give him pills. It was Connor's turn next, although he protested just like his friend. He didn't want her to see the bite wound on his shoulder but it seemed like Milton had already told her, and soon he was the one who was told to undress and stop squirming. Daryl was the one watching them with a worried look on his face then, because the hunter had not known about the new infection and slight purulence until now.

"No matter what is wrong with you and whatever Milton plans to do with you, you need people to take care of that. You're close to a blood poisoning" the doctor complained and Connor just grunted, because he was too busy fighting the urge to hiss and wince. The woman was manhandling him and far from tender as she cleaned and disinfected his shoulder as good as she could, and even after she was finished with that she was far from done. His broken hand was up next, and she wouldn't stop complaining about that as well. She started telling him all sorts of horror stories about how crippled his left hand was going to be if they didn't use a proper splint, but Connor didn't really want to care or listened to whatever she had to say.

Daryl was still lying in bed opposite him and he was watching them with weary eyes. Despite all the manhandling, pain and complains Connor actually had to smile when their glances met, because after such an intense couple of days relief suddenly rushed over him. Daryl was doing okay, a doctor had taken care of him, he had survived the shot, they had a roof above their heads and everything was over. Everything was going to be okay. _They_ were okay. At least for now.  
  
Augusta could wait for a bit, and maybe Milton could give them some answers before that. They would manage Woodbury with the others, they had walls, food, medicine, a doctor, lots of guns and ammo, electricity, and a large number of people with them now. And although they were both pretty much screwed he was surprised that he was actually happy. Really and properly happy.

The happiness wouldn't subside even after Dr Stevens left them alone and Daryl forced him to sleep on the couch. Once all lights were out and Woodbury was falling quiet outside Connor just lay on the piece of furniture that was way too small for him and stared out of the window. With the sudden relief and happiness peace didn't leave him waiting for too long either. For the first time in months no thoughts and worries tortured him that night, and after watching the clouds drift and his friend sleep for a while he finally closed his eyes as well, and there were no more nightmares, no pain, just peace.


	70. Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About this last chapter here, I wanted to explore some more Daryl before we get started on the new fic, and I used these two Norman quotes to tease the "new" Daryl:
> 
>  
> 
> _"It's more like anger at this world right now. Rage is one of those things that is fear based. That sort of rage comes from being afraid. Daryl is the type of guy that's always had his back up against the wall. He's always had to fight. It's just at the world and this is my life, and these are the cards I was dealt and it's just frustration and anger at everything. It's not just Merle. I'm not like, " I hate you Merle!" It's more like "Life sucks! And I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!" It's more like that._
> 
>  
> 
> _I think it shuts him down a little bit more. I think it hardens him a little more. That rage is still there and I don't think stabbing him over and over again is releasing that rage. It's just opening a new door. I would expect Daryl to become more introverted and be a more hardened person. He just grew up a lot right then."_  
> 

Connor wasn't really surprised when he woke up in the middle of the night. He had been doing that a lot lately, so he just wanted to turn around and sleep on. He wanted to get back to his dream, because it had been a rather nice one. Both Daryl AND Murphy had been there, and they had been in Ireland on a trip through the woods. He wanted to get back there, to smell the grass and make fun of his brother and best friend, but something was different, something kept him awake, something...

A gentle sob.

He waited a moment, and then there was another one. All his previous happiness and peace vanished like a balloon that was losing all its air at once.

Another sob.

The Irishman shifted and turned around to see where it was coming from.  
Daryl was still lying in the bed, and for a second it looked like he wasn't moving at all.  
But then there was another gentle and quiet sob. Connor held his breath and swallowed hard.

_Oh great._

Just for a moment he had forgotten all about that. He had been selfish about his own happiness, about the fact that all his wishes had become true. He was finally doing fine after losing his brother, almost killing himself and being depressed for more than a year, and now _this_.

Daryl had lost his brother a little less than two days ago. He had not been able to really process it and grieve until now, because the hunter had been shot and comatose until earlier today. But now it was night, now there was time and now it was quiet. So of course he was grieving now. Connor remembered the many, many times he had been awake every night.   
  
Replaying his brother's death, asking himself _why?_ and _how?_ and _could I have saved him somehow?_ He remembered the pain and countless tears, remembered that terrible time back at the farm when he had been alright during the day and how he had acted like he was fine and happy, only to start bawling during the night.

Daryl was just like that now, although he knew that it probably wouldn't be that bad. Maybe this was the only night his friend allowed himself to properly grieve, and Connor was actually ashamed of himself that he had not really interpreted earlier signs. He had thought that Daryl had been so quiet because he had been tired and in pain because of the bullet wound and blood. But it was neither the wound nor the blood. It was his devastation over Merle's death.

The Irishman sat up and stared at his friend, uncertainty growing bigger inside him.

"Daryl?" he muttered and the gentle sobbing stopped abruptly.

Daryl stilled and wouldn't answer, and it was obvious that he was trying to act like he was asleep.

Connor just sat there for a while longer and tried to come up with a solution. He tried to remember what his friend had done when he had been in a state like that. He knew that Daryl always liked to pretend that he was tough 24/7 and how he didn't want any help or comfort, but months of getting closer and closer had taught Connor that even his grumpy friend actually needed that, although it was hidden deep inside of him. The Irishman sat and just listened, but no more sobs could be heard. Daryl shifted after a while and Connor took it as sign that it was his turn to do something.

He walked over to the bed and let himself fall down on it. He could feel how Daryl tensed but refrained from wrapping an arm around him right away, because he didn't want to make it worse for his friend, and because he seriously didn't want to fight right now. He just moved and grabbed the other blanket to get underneath it, and then he just lay there on his back and stared at the ceiling. He just wanted his friend to know that he was right there if he needed him, and after all the locking each other up and forcing each other to do something he just waited for Daryl to make the first move. It took the hunter a pretty long while and he just lay there, back turned on him and head bowed, with arms wrapped around his pillow.

Connor turned his head after a while and looked at his back, breathing even and waiting.

"How many people and walkers did yah kill t'make yah feel better after your brother died?" the hunter eventually said and broke the silence between them.

Connor shrugged gently and turned on his side so he could keep looking at Daryl.

"Couple 'a hundreds? I don't know."

"Did it help?"

The Irishman snorted gently and shook his head.

"No. Just made me feel even more dead inside."

The hunter sniffed gently and groaned.

"I killed that son of a bitch. Stabbed him over and over again and gutted him like a pig" he said and Connor just listened.

"But somehow that don't change shit about it."

The Irishman felt a big lump in his throat because he didn't want his friend to feel like that. He knew what it felt like, how painful it really was. A gunshot or bite was nothing compared to that kind of pain. And sadly enough he also knew that no one could really help Daryl help out of there, that no one could really help him feel better. Not even him, no matter how much he wanted to. This was something his friend needed to come to terms with on his own, because otherwise the pain wouldn't go away, he would just bury it underneath a shitton of false promises and feel-better bullshit talk.

"I'm so fuckin angry" Daryl said and hit his pillow once and that very hard while kicking his blanket away at the same time.

"And I ain't even angry at that Governor freak. 'm so angry at Merle. At everything. I thought stabbing his face over and over again would make it go away, but it don't. It's still there. I'm so fuckin angry I could slaughter this entire town for his death and it still wouldn't be enough."

Connor gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"Stop that shit."

Daryl ignored him and kept talking.

"Whenever I fuckin needed him that bastard left me t'rot. He was more than ten years older than me and it was _me_ who had t'watch his drug-crazed ass all the time. He was such a fucking moron and bastard, always getting himself into trouble and now he got himself killed and left me in this shitty world all alone that. fuckin. bastard" he went on and hit the mattress with his flat palm this time, as if he was trying to punch his dead brother.

Connor eventually had enough from all the punching so he moved closer to his friend and grabbed his arm to stop him.  
Just like the many times before Daryl started struggling and tried to fight him off.

"Just stop that shit. Letting yer grief dominate you won't make anything better, alright? You gotta let go, man" Connor demanded.

"I ain't grieving his death" Daryl growled and managed to fight his friend's hand.

He shifted closer to the edge of the bed and moved his head until he was in a comfortable position.

"I ain't. He don't deserve it" he said, but it was obvious that he _did_ grieve his death and that Merle _did_ deserve it.

Connor just lay there, his upper body resting on his cocked arm and kept looking at his friend. He had enough then and stopped fighting the urge, so he just moved closer to Daryl and put an arm around him to comfort him. He knew it was silly. He knew it wasn't "masculine" enough or whatever people had said when he had been like that with Murphy back then. When someone had seen them touch and hug and pat each other all the time. He had always been a physical person with people that mattered to him, and despite all the violence in his life and despite the fact that he enjoyed murdering other people he actually enjoyed being tender as well.

Back on the farm this sort of thing had really helped him, and he wanted it to help Daryl as well now.  
He endured all the struggling, complaining and fighting until his friend finally relaxed and let him comfort him.

"Everything is so fucked ,man" Daryl growled after a while and threw one of the smaller pillows away. "And that town here ain't gonna change shit about it. Now we got a five star waiting room at the end of the world. Sooner or later all these fucks out there gonna bite the dust as well. Their big walls don't even matter. It's gonna be another herd of walkers, or another bunch of psychos with grenade launchers who wanna take what we have and who kill everyone."

Connor was quite surprised to hear his friend talk like that. The hunter had always been optimistic, had always been looking for something. Whether it had been Sophia or Merle, whether it had been him looking forward to Judith's birth or him trying to find Carol again. There had always been something he had looked forward to, and even if he'd had doubts then he had never voiced them like that. But something had been stolen from him, the foundation of his optimism and longing, because Merle was gone, his secret rock, the one person that had truly kept him upright and safe with his sheer existence.

The Irishman wrapped his arm even tighter around his friend, to a point where it actually hurt him.

"We can always leave if ye think that's better. Try our luck out there on our own" he suggested, although he really didn't want to leave this place.

After running and living like shit all his life he wasn't surprised that he actually _wanted_ to be safe now. That he wanted to settle down and watch kids grow up, no matter if they weren't his own and never would be. Just like Daryl he was tired of running and fighting, but he wanted to spend the rest of their probably short lives in peace.

"Milton told me about Augusta."

There was silence and Daryl wouldn't fight him or answer for a while. He finally shifted and shrugged.

"I know" he mumbled but then shook his head.

"Guess we can go there sooner or later. But I just need a fuckin break right now. From _all_ that shit."

Connor nodded behind him and shifted a bit.

"Aye. Myself as well."

No more answer would come then, and it looked like Daryl really wanted to sleep now. Connor sighed gently and let everything he had heard sink in. He was glad that his friend really shared his thoughts and problems with him now, because he was pretty sure the hunter would never tell anyone else about that. Not Rick, not Carol. This was far too personal, and now that he had heard it the Irishman wasn't even really sure anymore if he had wanted to hear it himself.  
  
It really upset him to see his friend so sad, although he knew that it was just a natural reaction to his brother's death and this war. Daryl was tough but even he had his breaking point, and it would be even harder for them to make him heal because the hunter was also stubborn and loved to shut down completely.

The Irishman had no idea how he was supposed to fix this. All he knew was that he was with his friend now, and he wanted it to stay that way. He wanted to fix everything in fact. He wanted to make Merle's death right, he wanted to make this place secure, he wanted to get to Augusta and find out what was wrong with him, his friend and their blood. Maybe they could even find a cure and make _everything_ better for them, for Daryl. He just looked at the black mess that was his friend's hair. He wanted to be there for him and help him just like Daryl had helped him get over Murphy. And he was determined to pull this through.

* * *

The first couple of weeks were hard. There were some more uproars and fights within Woodbury, since hardly any of the old residents wanted Rick and the others to take over. New shifts and positions really needed to be assigned but there were two very distinct groups which caused problems every single day. Rick kept insisting that they should base this town on some sort of democracy.   
  
There were town meetings, there were votes and discussions, and the whole structure was hard to built up, but it was manageable and the rivalry eventually stopped when the people noticed that they were being included rather than being trapped. Some still left until there was a total number of 64 residents in the town of Woodbury, including the former prison group. 64 people that were given jobs, houses and tasks to keep it running.

Daryl was still healing and although he insisted that he was fine he was not allowed to join the scouting troops that left the town regularly to find supplies and weapons. Connor was asked to join the group but declined because he didn't want to leave Daryl alone, and people were actually surprised when he signed up for some work with the children instead.   
  
There was a small church within the walls and no one really was a priest, but Hershel offered to do mass from now on, and Connor volunteered for that as well. He was quite surprised himself, because within the first weeks of the repopulation of Woodbury his talents and personality were actually really blossoming. He had never thought that he was capable of the whole settling down and doing calmer things, but he actually really enjoyed not having to kill someone or something for a whole week. He taught kids maths and languages every morning and showed them how to shoot guns after mass.

He and Daryl didn't really see each other much anymore during the first 6 hours of the day and he really didn't like that. They still shared an apartment and even a bed sometimes, but that was about it. Connor felt guilty because of that but really wanted to help Rick and the others rebuilt this town, and it wasn't like Daryl really let him help anyway. That first night in Woodbury had been the only time where the hunter had opened up his heart. Now he was just cold and quiet all the time, sometimes even angry and even more introverted.

The hunter wasn't allowed to do anything but keep watch and rest, since his bullet wound was still healing. Despite the grieving process he actually looked quiet good, though. Just like all the others he was no longer dirty as hell (because Connor forced him to take showers regularly, mother hen that he was) and the wound was healing nicely. The Irishman was doing quite good as well. Now that he was back to civilization and "city" life he got back to his usual 'take care of yourself and look good' routine. His wounds were healing as well, and he was even prouder of the fact that after months of being underweight because of his depression he was actually gaining weight again.

Not only because Woodbury had better food (and no more fucking squirrels), but also because the town had a small gym where not only he trained every day, Daryl actually did the same. And that despite Connor's pleas to stop that shit because of the injury. The hunter only backfired at him and told him he wasn't doing anything else with his broken hand and fucked up shoulder, so Connor let him be.

Something seemed to be driving Daryl, like he was trying to reach something, achieve something. Now that he couldn't hunt or get out of Woodbury he wouldn't stop working out, like his arms weren't muscular enough already. He and Connor barely spoke anymore although they still spent most of the day together, and it was after almost three weeks of being here when the Irishman could no longer take that current state of their friendship.

They were sitting on one of the walls and kept watch in the afternoon sun, although Connor didn't even want to call it "watch" anymore, he called it "working on their tan". Life in Woodbury really could be boring sometimes, especially when you didn't work for the scouting troops, when walkers did no longer attack you and didn't pass by anyway. The walkers were another story. They still didn't attack neither him nor Daryl, and although Milton had been working on their blood samples for weeks now they still didn't know why the hell this was happening. Or more like _not_ happening.

They were sitting on top of the wall and watched one lonely walker down the road when Connor finally had enough and broke the silence.

"How are ye doing?" he muttered and turned his head to look at his friend, who was sitting there, crossbow in his hands and cleaning it.

"Fine" came the short answer, tight muscles working and moving underneath sun-burned skin.

"Milty still don't know shit about te blood" Connor answered and turned his head again to watch the walker stumble around, and for a second he thought about daring Daryl that he could shoot the undead in the head from here with the crossbow. But he didn't say something like that, because he wanted the conversation to be about the blood, and their lack of knowledge regarding that.

"Yeah, told yah that freak don't know nothing about nothing" Daryl muttered and spit on his red rag so he could use it to polish his crossbow even more.

Connor searched the pockets of his shorts for cigarettes and then grabbed two to light them. He took a deep drag on both of them, leaned his head back and blew some smoke out with a loving groan, and once again he noticed how Daryl was watching him. He finally handed the other cigarette over and shifted.

"Got me thinking. How's te wound doin?" he went on and Daryl shrugged.

"Fine" he said once more, which made Connor roll his eyes. He stretched his back and pointed at the abandoned dirty street in front of them.

"Well I just thought, since you'n me are doing pretty _fine_ now and I'm startin ta get bored as fuck, might as well head fer Augusta.  
Been talking about it fer weeks now" he suggested and Daryl turned his head to look at him.

"Yeah of course, people don't even let me go on scouting trips, and people are watching each others' every step even when they're taking a shit, but they're just gonna let us go to a fucking city like Augusta. Dream on, leprechaun" the hunter answered and resumed the cleaning process.

Connor grinned.

"Well.." he said and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Who says they gotta know?" he went on and kept smirking to himself while blewing out the smoke.

"You'n me we could happen ta fall down these walls during our night shift. By accident, of course. And our feet could keep moving. By accident.  
I mean it's not our fault our blood makes us head fer Augusta, is it? Could be a weird immunity reaction."

Daryl turned his head and checked if there was someone close by.

"And I would I do that" he said then and avoided direct eye contact with his friend, since he was now considering the possibility. For weeks he wanted nothing more than to get out of here for a while, to get back to the woods, to get back to hunting, fighting and surviving. Although he wanted to stay alive and safe and sound as well he couldn't help but hate their new life at Woodbury, because he hated domesticity and towns in general. He was no use in here, and he felt terribly out of place.

He wasn't himself anymore. He was Daryl Dixon, the hunter. He was used to being dirty and gutting animals and tracking and killing walkers, not all the town hall meetings and cool drinks and lemonade and kids and old people talk bullshit while wearing clean clothes, having showers and even watching the same three dvds on their only tv. So yeah, he didn't even need an answer to that, but he didn't want to make it too easy for Connor, because he still wanted to be on his own and wanted people to keep their distance after everything that had happened to him.

"Cos you wanna know what's wrong with us. And cos yer exactly like me. No matter how much I really love this life here, how pretty and nice it is, even I gotta admit that I'm addicted to the old shit. Once you start killing and getting your hands dirty, you just can't stop doing it and thinking about it anymore."

Daryl turned his head and just stared at his friend. Connor smirked and took another loving drag on his cigarette.

"Blood and killing's just like nicotine in that regard. It's nasty, it kills ye, it's dangerous and ugly, but you can't stop."

Daryl tried to get back to cleaning his crossbow again, but now he really couldn't stop thinking about it either. Connor had a point. He could feel it itching in his fingers. Both men looked at the street for a while and watched the walker stumble away from them, almost like he was trying to lure them out, make them go after him.

"Well, that wall's pretty thin" he said and looked down. Connor did the same and wouldn't stop smirking.

"Don't surprise me that people fall off that thing. Make their feet do weird things" he mumbled, and after a moment of staring at each other Connor ended up chuckling.

"Tricky thing. Walls" he agreed and nodded.

They didn't speak after that but didn't need to. They knew the pact was sealed, that the idea was set. They were going to escape this town for a while. Their next destination was set. They were going to leave and look for answers, and they wouldn't return until they found what they were looking for. Whether the others wanted them to or not.

Augusta was waiting.


End file.
